


A Tale Anew: Season One

by Falcadore



Series: The Transformers: A Tale Anew [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 61,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3530690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcadore/pseuds/Falcadore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dramatis Personae</p><p>Autobots<br/>Bluestreak (Gunner) Grey Datsun 280ZX<br/>Brawn (Demolitions) Green/Yellow Land Rover<br/>Camshaft (Scout) Grey Mazda RX-7<br/>Cliffjumper (Warrior) Red Porsche 924<br/>Downshift (Security Agent) White Toyota Celica<br/>Gears (Transport/Reconnaissance) Blue/Red Land Rover<br/>Goldbug (Espionage) Yellow Volkswagen Beetle (Bumblebee)<br/>Grimlock (Dinobot Commander) Tyrannosaurus Rex<br/>Hound (Scout) US Army Utility Jeep<br/>Huffer (Construction Engineer) Orange Prime Mover<br/>Ironhide (Security) Red Toyota Tarago<br/>Jazz (Special Operations Agent) White Porsche 935 - Martini Racing<br/>Jetfire (Air Guardian) White Grumman F-14A Tomcat (Skyfire)<br/>Mirage (Spy) Ligier JS25 Cosworth Formula One<br/>Optimus Prime (Commander) Red/Blue Kenworth Prime Mover<br/>Overdrive (Strategist) Red Ferrari 512 Boxer<br/>Prowl (Military Strategist) Datsun 280ZX Police Car<br/>Ratchet (Medic) Toyota Tarago Ambulance<br/>Sideswipe (Warrior) Red Lamborghini Countach<br/>Slag (Flamethrower) Triceratops<br/>Sludge (Jungle Warrior/Demolitions) Diplodocus<br/>Snarl (Desert Warrior) Stegosaurus<br/>Sunstreaker (Warrior) Yellow Lamborghini Countach<br/>Swoop (Dinobot Bombardier) Pteranadon<br/>Trailbreaker (Defensive Strategist) Black Toyota Hi-Lux<br/>Wheeljack (Mechanical Engineer) White Lancia Stratos - Factory Lancia Rally Car<br/>Windcharger (Warrior) Red Pontiac Firebird</p><p>Decepticons<br/>Bonecrusher (Demolitions) Green Bulldozer<br/>Buzzsaw (Spy) Gold Cassette/Condor<br/>Devastator (Warrior) Constructicon Gestalt<br/>Frenzy (Warrior) Blue Cassette<br/>Hook (Surgical Engineer) Green Crane<br/>Laserbeak (Interrogation) Red Cassette/Condor<br/>Long Haul (Transport) Green Dump Truck<br/>Megatron (Leader) Walther P-38 Automatic Pistol<br/>Mixmaster (Materials Fabrication) Green Concrete Mixer<br/>Ravage (Saboteur) Black Cassette/Panther<br/>Rumble (Demolitions) Black/Red Cassette<br/>Scavenger (Mining and Salvage) Green Front End Loader<br/>Scrapper (Demolitions) Green Excavator<br/>Shockwave (Military Operations Commander) Purple Laser Gun<br/>Skywarp (Warrior) Black McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle<br/>Soundwave (Communications) Blue Cassette Player<br/>Spectro (Reconnaissance) Camera<br/>Spyglass (Reconnaissance) Camera<br/>Starscream (Air Commander) Grey/Red McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle<br/>Thundercracker (Warrior) Blue McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle<br/>Viewfinder (Reconnaissance) Camera</p><p>Humans – Non-aligned<br/>Carly Winters – Student<br/>Brent "Buster" Witwicky – Mechanic<br/>Spike Witwicky – Apprentice Mechanic<br/>Spiro "Sparkplug" Witwicky – Proprietor Mechanical Automotive Workshop</p><p>Humans – United States Government<br/>Michaela de Cesaris – National Security Advisor<br/>George Fury – Secretary of Defence<br/>Darrell Hodges – Chief of Staff, Robinson Administration<br/>James Martindale III – Assistant Secretary of State<br/>Alain Pentti – Deputy Director, Central Intelligence Agency<br/>Patrick G. Robinson – President of the United States of America<br/>Unnamed Government Agent</p><p>Humans – United States Military<br/>Major Steve Ashby – United States Air Force, Fighter Command<br/>Colonel Peter Bourne – Deputy Commander, United States Army Special Investigations Unit<br/>Captain Jacques Knopfler – Special Investigator, United States Army Special Investigations Unit<br/>General George Pickett – Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff<br/>Lieutenant Colonel Roberts – Air Intelligence, Eighth Air Force, United State Air Force<br/>Lieutenant Rodgers – US Army Rangers<br/>Brigadier General Perkele A. Stewart – Officer Commanding, United States Army Special Investigations Unit<br/>Major General Paul Stokell – Senior Staff officer to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff<br/>Major Mike Yates – Team Leader, United States Army Special Investigations Unit</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Dramatis Personae
> 
> Autobots  
> Bluestreak (Gunner) Grey Datsun 280ZX  
> Brawn (Demolitions) Green/Yellow Land Rover  
> Camshaft (Scout) Grey Mazda RX-7  
> Cliffjumper (Warrior) Red Porsche 924  
> Downshift (Security Agent) White Toyota Celica  
> Gears (Transport/Reconnaissance) Blue/Red Land Rover  
> Goldbug (Espionage) Yellow Volkswagen Beetle (Bumblebee)  
> Grimlock (Dinobot Commander) Tyrannosaurus Rex  
> Hound (Scout) US Army Utility Jeep  
> Huffer (Construction Engineer) Orange Prime Mover  
> Ironhide (Security) Red Toyota Tarago  
> Jazz (Special Operations Agent) White Porsche 935 - Martini Racing  
> Jetfire (Air Guardian) White Grumman F-14A Tomcat (Skyfire)  
> Mirage (Spy) Ligier JS25 Cosworth Formula One  
> Optimus Prime (Commander) Red/Blue Kenworth Prime Mover  
> Overdrive (Strategist) Red Ferrari 512 Boxer  
> Prowl (Military Strategist) Datsun 280ZX Police Car  
> Ratchet (Medic) Toyota Tarago Ambulance  
> Sideswipe (Warrior) Red Lamborghini Countach  
> Slag (Flamethrower) Triceratops  
> Sludge (Jungle Warrior/Demolitions) Diplodocus  
> Snarl (Desert Warrior) Stegosaurus  
> Sunstreaker (Warrior) Yellow Lamborghini Countach  
> Swoop (Dinobot Bombardier) Pteranadon  
> Trailbreaker (Defensive Strategist) Black Toyota Hi-Lux  
> Wheeljack (Mechanical Engineer) White Lancia Stratos - Factory Lancia Rally Car  
> Windcharger (Warrior) Red Pontiac Firebird
> 
> Decepticons  
> Bonecrusher (Demolitions) Green Bulldozer  
> Buzzsaw (Spy) Gold Cassette/Condor  
> Devastator (Warrior) Constructicon Gestalt  
> Frenzy (Warrior) Blue Cassette  
> Hook (Surgical Engineer) Green Crane  
> Laserbeak (Interrogation) Red Cassette/Condor  
> Long Haul (Transport) Green Dump Truck  
> Megatron (Leader) Walther P-38 Automatic Pistol  
> Mixmaster (Materials Fabrication) Green Concrete Mixer  
> Ravage (Saboteur) Black Cassette/Panther  
> Rumble (Demolitions) Black/Red Cassette  
> Scavenger (Mining and Salvage) Green Front End Loader  
> Scrapper (Demolitions) Green Excavator  
> Shockwave (Military Operations Commander) Purple Laser Gun  
> Skywarp (Warrior) Black McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle  
> Soundwave (Communications) Blue Cassette Player  
> Spectro (Reconnaissance) Camera  
> Spyglass (Reconnaissance) Camera  
> Starscream (Air Commander) Grey/Red McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle  
> Thundercracker (Warrior) Blue McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle  
> Viewfinder (Reconnaissance) Camera
> 
> Humans – Non-aligned  
> Carly Winters – Student  
> Brent "Buster" Witwicky – Mechanic  
> Spike Witwicky – Apprentice Mechanic  
> Spiro "Sparkplug" Witwicky – Proprietor Mechanical Automotive Workshop
> 
> Humans – United States Government  
> Michaela de Cesaris – National Security Advisor  
> George Fury – Secretary of Defence  
> Darrell Hodges – Chief of Staff, Robinson Administration  
> James Martindale III – Assistant Secretary of State  
> Alain Pentti – Deputy Director, Central Intelligence Agency  
> Patrick G. Robinson – President of the United States of America  
> Unnamed Government Agent
> 
> Humans – United States Military  
> Major Steve Ashby – United States Air Force, Fighter Command  
> Colonel Peter Bourne – Deputy Commander, United States Army Special Investigations Unit  
> Captain Jacques Knopfler – Special Investigator, United States Army Special Investigations Unit  
> General George Pickett – Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff  
> Lieutenant Colonel Roberts – Air Intelligence, Eighth Air Force, United State Air Force  
> Lieutenant Rodgers – US Army Rangers  
> Brigadier General Perkele A. Stewart – Officer Commanding, United States Army Special Investigations Unit  
> Major General Paul Stokell – Senior Staff officer to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff  
> Major Mike Yates – Team Leader, United States Army Special Investigations Unit

On a small planet far from the hubs of the galaxy a civilisation formed. A highly unusual civilisation, they were a fully evolved species and culture that was completely artificial in nature. Each being had been constructed, not born. All of the physical disadvantages of flesh had been overcome. It had to be; the planet's sun had died. For whatever reason the sun had not gone nova, it had gradually shrunk and turned cold. The nature of these artificial bodies led to decreased vulnerability and increased lifespan. These physical attributes of these Cybertronians, as they later became known,would have an effect on the psyche of the population. For some this apparent invincibility gave birth to greater aspirations of power. All it needed was a triggering event, and a charismatic leader or two. As it tends to do, the course of history provided these sparks, and a race once destined to become a major player in intergalactic affairs became embroiled in internecine warfare.

For millions of years this war raged across Cybertron. Armies rose and fell; territory was won and lost. Until for one side evacuation or submission became the decision. A ship of exploration, a ship of hope, ventured forth to look for options, to search for a future. Another pursued it; an opportunity has arisen because of who was on board. One great leader left Cybertron, pursued by the other. Their absence would last millions of years and the war would run its course without them. There would be a victor and a loser, but for these two, the result would never be known. Eventually the two histories would re-unite, but eventually would take a very long time.

This is their story.


	2. Fall From Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two spacecraft arrive in orbit above a planet with no civilisation. Battle commences and both crews are soon fighting for their lives.

In the greater context of the universe, it was an insignificant event. Two vessels fighting didn't even make up a significant event in most conflicts. Wars have been fought since time immemorial. Civil wars, international wars, interplanetary wars, wars of conquest, wars of genocide, wars of retribution, wars of religion, Sontarens against Rutans, Klingons against Romulans, Centaurii against Narn, the Daleks against most everyone else at some point, Terrans against... well you get the point. These two vessels seemed hardly likely to make that much of an impact on any history of the universe. But this skirmish would butterfly its way down the timelines, and its true effect wouldn't be felt for millions of years...

The two great vessels tumbled and twisted through each other in hyperspace. There seemed to be no pattern, no meaning to the exchange, until you looked closer. The two vessels were by no means similar. One was smaller, faster, sleeker, more agile, blatantly a vessel of war. The other was larger and lumbering, less able to fend off its foe. Whatever its purpose, a warship it was not. That is not to say it was unarmed. The two ships traded hammer blows. Energy beams flashed between the two. It was impossible to tell at any given moment who was firing at who. Whatever the nature of the battle, the big ship appeared to be losing. The hull was damaged, with compartments open to space, with flares of light coming from within.

A flash of light and something critical on the larger ship gave. An explosion flared briefly in the available atmosphere before chilling in the cold of vacuum. For suddenly it was vacuum as the larger ship lost main engine power and jerked abruptly into real space. The two vessels were separated as the smaller vessel continued on for several light seconds before dropping into realspace to re-orient and return to battle...

 

"Main engines are offline. If we do not find shelter soon we may have to deal with a containment breach in the reactor vessel. I need to take the reactor offline to effect repairs," cried an amplified voice through the noise of vessel. At least it would have been a cry if an organic race had produced it. But it was not organic. There was no inflection brought about by yelling that that an organic vocal chord has to, to achieve amplification. This voice was digital in origin. All it need was an alteration in resistance and the voice was louder. The digital voice belonged to a digital personality, the mechanical personality to a mechanical being. Unusually for a mechanical species, it stood on two legs, had two arms and a head. It was unusual for a mechanical race to evolve a humanoid form, but humanoid or even android was perhaps being over generous. Sharp angles stuck out everywhere as if it looked like the parts of a great metal, ceramic and fibre jigsaw put together badly. It was a slightly discordant effect and made the being look like it was trying to be something it wasn't. And that wasn't too far from the truth.

His name was Wheeljack. He was the engineer for this exploration voyage. And he was far from happy with the situation he was being expected to deal with. The vessel, called The Ark, was in pain. The damage to the drive section of the ship had meant that propulsion through hyperspace was no longer possible and an emergency hyperspace egress had been hurriedly carved in the fabric of reality to allow the Ark to jump to 'realspace'. It was a process that was more than merely a strain on components. A voice came back to Wheeljack. It didn't belong to any of the other beings in the room, for the voice was transmitted not just through the aural range, but also on higher frequencies that could pass through solid objects, like the decks and walls of the vessel.

"What can you give us?" It was a gentler voice, familiar with the speaker and with the situation, practised at extracting the gist of a report without the colour. Wheeljack knew the speaker almost as well as he knew himself.

"A short burst and that may rupture the vessel, closest system only. We are close to a system right?" The question sounded hopeful. From hope springs many things, among them re-assurance, and Wheeljack wanted that reassurance.

"Standby, I'll get back to you." Reassuring, the reply was not.

 

On the bridge of the Ark things looked less frantic. Everyone was seated and working over its allotted displays.

"Prime, we have to find landfall, immediately." The speaker, the one who had spoken to Wheeljack, looked like a sleeker version of Wheeljack. Five metres standing, which he wasn't, in white and black compared to Wheeljacks white, green and red, Prowl was an altogether more aesthetic proposition. Prowl was shuffling through navigational charts searching for where they had emerged. Even with the assistance of Teletran One, the Ark's onboard mainframe, it was a tough assignment. There are far too many stars to make finding your location after an emergency hyperspace egress easy. Teletran found a match and shunted the display to Prowl who forwarded it to the larger figure seated in the command chair in the middle of the bridge. Optimus Prime stood over seven meters tall, a mountain of red and blue metal.

"Here Prime. It is the only option." Prowl did not sound resigned or hopeful, merely informative.

"No local population. It is not a named world, a feral world." Optimus Prime considered. "Wheeljack, can you repair the Ark without the assistance of a dry dock?" said with a deeper voice filled with the authority years of command experience can give.

"Yes," called the disembodied reply from the absent Wheeljack. He had a question of his own, "We heading somewhere wild?"

"Confirmed, we are orienting for jump now. Jetfire there is our course."

"Aye Prime, coming about and laid in," said the white figure at the helm. "Wheeljack, I need power for 600 light seconds travel then manoeuvring once we are in system."

"We can handle that. We have power when you want it."

"Leap." said Optimus. As Jetfire fired the main engines another voice appeared.

"Decepticons," Jazz was at the sensor station. A burst of energy had been picked up before the sensors were taken offline for the jump. A lot of the more sensitive sensors could easily be burned out by the mass of energy waves from a hyperspace entry. Those at weapons consoles started, but relaxed again as the distinctive but indescribable effect of hyperspace came from the viewscreen. Jazz replayed the last moments of data and evaluated.

"Did they get a read on our jump?" asked Prowl, mentally pouring over options.

"Almost certainly."

"We will be vulnerable once we arrive in system. Prowl, Bluestreak we need an ambush." said Prime.

"Bluestreak, how are the particle beam weapons?"

"Reasonably wrecked. We have lost 80% from the starboard side, so that is a real mess, could not hit Omega Supreme at point blank with them, and the chances of the Decepticons arriving on the port side is only fifty percent. Shall I toss a door magnet and rip open half the decks to save time?"

"Missiles?" asked Prowl, ignoring the flippancy.

"Got them all. Have not had a chance, or the need to fire one."

"Prime we need to stop and make a microjump. The Decepticons will follow our track, so if we microjump we will not be where they expect us to be. We will salvo a broad spread, bring down their shields with the missiles fired closest abeam and damage them as those fired from further missile ports catch up." Prowl was still evolving the plan as he spoke. Optimus Prime stood back and let his strategist plan it out. Bluestreak and the other warriors were ready just as the unintelligible something of hyperspace snapped to the black to normal space. Only instead of a smooth transition, it juddered, as if reality didn't want to appear, as Jetfire performed the microjump. It left a mass of energy residue in space and put them several kilometres from the position their jump would have suggested. As Jetfire reoriented the Ark at Prowls direction it became obvious they were more than merely in system. A blue and white world wheeled about through the viewports. Against the backstop of the planets gravity well it added a wall to the trap. If the Decepticons had miscalculated their guess at the jump their safety systems would snap them unexpectedly back into reality. It was a good plan, a hopeful plan.

Tension built as the minutes passed. The Decepticons were overdue. Why? The immaculate yellow figure of Sunstreaker impatiently tapped a finger against a console. The red figure of his brother Sideswipe glared at Sunstreaker momentarily and the tapping stopped.

"Energy spike." called Jazz. The direction was fed instantly into the missile seekers. Bluestreak did not hesitate.

"Salvo one!" and the Ark shuddered with multiple launches.

 

In so far as any ruthless warrior could be happy with its crew, Megatron was happy with its crew. It was a scratch crew. Megatron had heard favourable words about Starscream and his command of an aerial unit and assigned his Seekers to the Nemesis crew. However recent operations had thinned Starscream's Seekers operational strength and another unit had been nominated in their place. Starscream had fought to be reinstated, fought hard and the Seekers had been re-instated but only three of them would make the flight with Starscream promising more would show up until mere seconds before departure. Skywarp and Thundercracker stood at gunnery stations, sole representatives of Starscream's squadron. Anticipating a shortfall of warriors Megatron had brought his force multiplier of choice, Soundwave. The communicator and his cadre of Cassetticons would be useful. He still needed an experienced second in command that he trusted and neither Starscream nor Soundwave filled that role. For an experienced second, Megatron had chosen Shockwave. A small crew, but an effective one, doubts about Starscream aside.

The damaged Autobot vessel had fled into Hyperspace the moment they appeared, but they departed down a path towards the only hospitable system within light minutes although records on the Decepticon gunship were sketchier than what the Ark would no doubt have on call. The gunship leapt after the Autobots. The task awaited completion. Megatron's circuits burned with the desire of vengeance. Revenge for every defeat this Autobot crew had visited upon him.

"Ready Decepticons. Today we finally rid the fleet of the scourge of Optimus Prime and his pitiful band." Megatron did not even bother was disguising his desire with the discipline of command. He wanted this ship and its crew decommissioned. As did every other warrior Megatron had assembled on the Gunship. It was a small crew, compared to the Autobots, but they were all warriors. The Autobot crew would be padded out with all manner of specialists. They would be able to hold guns, but shoot them? Megatron doubted their effectiveness.

Soundwave had a countdown feed into everyone's displays. To Megatron's right, Starscream was almost twitching in anticipation. He had cried with delight during the battle. Megatron's thought processes only briefly skirted a post-operation review. Starscream was starting to prove a disappointing choice as operations commander. They were coming up on...

"Mis-leap." called Soundwave. Reality screamed into the viewports before it was supposed to. "Gravity well proximity warning." continued Soundwave. Megatron very briefly speculated and saw they had jumped to close to the world the Autobots had leapt towards. What if...

"Sensors" called Megatron. The long to mid range sensors had come up already and were feeding the data on the world below them, the short-range sensors were brought on selectively as it was determined what could be safely brought online. What they reported, they reported too late.

"Missiles." called Soundwave. "Starboard rear quarter." Megatron's display came alive with a tactical feed; already missiles were impacting against the gunship energy shields. The ship shook with repeated impacts for just under a minute.

"Hypervelocity engines damaged. Recommend; withdraw from battle."

"No." cried Megatron and Starscream together. Megatron examined the tactical display and didn't like what he saw at all. Gunship Nemesis had its back to the gravity well of the now far from distant planet. The Autobot vessel had positioned itself that the Decepticons would have to fight their way past them. The Ark was lightly armed, but significantly larger than the Nemesis and had rotated to bring 80% of its guns to bear.

"Close on them Shockwave. Starscream get out there and distract their gunners."

"With pleasure Megatron." screeched one voice while another held just a bleak functional acknowledgment. As a tall purple grey figure characterised by a single glowing eye in its face altered the gunboats vector, three figures disengaged from gunnery stations and headed for the bridge deck airlock. Megatron turned back to the figure in blue at the communication and sensor station.

"Soundwave, prepare for direct assault."

 

Grey with red highlights, Starscream made a crunching noise as he floated out of the airlock, the basically humanoid figure folding and tucking in on itself, shrinking but becoming more bulky and yet streamlined. Where once a humanoid figure floated now drifted a free-space attack fighter. Behind Starscream moving into a vaguely triangular formation two identical shapes in blue and black duplicated the move. Thundercracker and Skywarp stood ready to assist their raid commander.

"Triangle formation for initial pass using missiles, then break and strafe at targets of opportunity." cried Starscream, eyes alight and encouraged with the noise of battle in his receptors. A coward by inclination, Starscream was nonetheless a warrior born of generations of fighting Decepticons. He knew small unit aerial tactics. Skywarp floated up on Starscream's left, a triangle of black metal, almost indistinguishable against the vista of space. Thundercracker, in a looser position moved up on the right. The trio accelerated, setting off main engines and flew from behind Nemesis and circled to streak in at the nose of the Autobot vessel. From this angle Starscream could force the forward Autobot guns to train away from the gunboat to meet the secondary threat while still minimising the number of guns available to fire at them. At one kilometre the three loosed missiles towards the Ark, giving the gunners plenty of opportunity to focus too much of their available attention on the missiles. With lasers cannons twinkling, the three fighters strafed the length of the Ark. A discharge of energy somewhere behind Starscream indicated at least one of the missiles got through the defensive screen and struck the hull. Once past the aft of the Ark and away from the Ark's engines Starscream broke away from the battle.

"Skywarp, Thundercracker, break and ATTACK!!"

 

The Ark was visibly closer through the viewport of the gunboats wide assault airlock. Megatron turned away from trajectories and drift calculations to inspect the assault group. By his side was the tall solidly blue figure of Soundwave, gathered around him his progeny, the humanoid figures in black and blue of Rumble and Frenzy, the two avians in red and gold of Laserbeak and Buzzsaw and the feline figure of Ravage. Once a successful boarding had been forged Starscream and his companions could join them with Shockwave staying with the Gunboat. A small but tight group, more than enough to cope with the dilettante pretend soldiers aboard the Ark.

"Megatron, I have located the Ark's main egress point. Manoeuvres to the gunboat are complete; you may launch your attack at your convenience." Megatron did not wait and the airlock door rumbled open as soon as Megatron grasped the import of Shockwave's message. The force shield over the lock would protect the warriors from accidental bombardment but once the field was broached there would be long seconds of exposure to space before arriving at the Autobot hatch. At that moment a blur of grey flashed across the shrinking gap between the two vessels. Starscream left a bomblet to drift by momentum into the centre of the Ark's lock. Megatron was briefly annoyed. It was a high-risk tactic, the bomblet could wreck the lock to make impassable as opposed to blowing it open, but the bomblet was low powered and satisfying blew a hole open in the lock. Not big enough for Megatron or Soundwave to pass through, but Soundwaves team were not so bulky. Buzzsaw and Laserbeak leapt for the gap with Ravage, Rumble and Frenzy following. Laserbeak hung back and the golden figure of Buzzsaw was the first to enter the Ark.

 

Prowl did not like their chances. When the gunboat drew alongside, being boarded was always the plan. The Ark though was too big and too undermanned to prevent the Decepticons from boarding at all. Prowl had set up a few barricades at the entry ports, but if the Decepticons decided to burn their way through the hull they would have to scramble to choke points protecting the bridge or the engine room. The Decepticons though, had taken the easy option. As the lock door blew inwards Prowl put the other fortified positions on standby to retreat to his position if the Decepticons focused on only one entry. It was a risky judgment. Judging by the one brief camera footage of the strike team not all of the Decepticon strike team was committed to the entry. For the moment the fighters continued to strafe the Ark, and someone was still manning the gunboats main guns. One final check of his team, Overdrive and Cliffjumper both clutched the guns with fierce determination. Windcharger had a kind of world-weary look about him, like he really should not be there at all. Sunstreaker fidgeted, trying to find the best position to crouch that would minimise the possibility of a laser graze ruining his paintwork. Mirage just looked plain bored. What did it take to get Mirage interested in anything?

At that moment twinkles of hot light burst in the hole. With covering fire from outside, a very small Decepticon drifted in the hole. It did not have a proper four-limbed transformer shape. Prowl the tactician immediately recognised the aerial gun platform of either Buzzsaw or Laserbeak, probably Buzzsaw. This was both good and bad. Good because the real threat was not yet ready and this would give Prowl additional time to reinforce this barricade as he called on Jazz and Wheeljacks teams to abandon their barricades and proceed to Prowls. But it was bad as it indicated Soundwave was here, along with his army of miniature Decepticons. Soundwave was a force multiplier; he could give a raiding party far more power than another single Decepticon could. The last observation was confirmed as Buzzsaw's covering fire emerged into the large docking bay as Laserbeak. Ravage followed through but did not contribute to the battle. The feline figure immediately slunk away towards the back of the bay, looking for a way to get under Prowl's guard. Prowl directed his team to try and pin down the two avian Decepticons while he personally awaited developments. They were not long in coming as the small hole shook to a set of mighty hammer blows. The blows quickly repeated and continued. That meant Rumble was working on the remains of the hatch. Prowl directed Sunstreaker, Windcharger and Cliffjumper to continue harrying the aviatrixes, and Overdrive to keep tabs on Ravage while he and Mirage set up sniping angles on the door.

Mirage squinted down the sights of his rifle beside Prowl behind the makeshift barricades that had been hurriedly welded to the deck. Prowl glanced at Mirage briefly before sighting his own rifle towards the hole. There was a cry and somebody bumped Prowl. He thought it was Overdrive when Prowl caught a glimpse of red through the hole out into space.

"Firing." said Mirage a moment after sending an armour-piercing dart out into space....

 

Rumble's pounding of the door remnants changed with a small explosive charge. The small Decepticon clutched a jagged shoulder joint and was pushed away from smashing aside the doors, a job which thanks to Rumbles effort could now be fixed with a shove. Soundwave reached out and snagged the wounded Decepticon before he tumbled away into space. Telemetry from Laserbeak and Buzzsaw demonstrated the folly of shouldering slowly past broken metal into the bay. The Autobots had fortified too well. Megatron needed another option.

"Skywarp! I need you to shut down an Autobot barricade." A large triangle of black metal flew up beside Soundwave and unfolded into a darkened look alike of Starscream. "Can you do it?" Skywarp was studying a telemetry feed from Ravage.

"Yes Megatron." Skywarp turned away from Megatron, raised his arms into a firing position, readied his arm-mounted cannons and stood very still, and with a surge of energy from his leg mounted engines and his shoulder projections Skywarp faded from sight. Megatron shouldered his way to the hatch and thrust his huge Fusion Cannon inside the hole.

"Covering fire, now!"

 

Skywarp's vision clouded and faded to black, then exploded into madness. It was a madness that could be endured or ignored. Skywarp had found that shutting his eyes down did not always guarantee that they would come back on again once the 'jump' was completed. Teleportation jumping causes massive disruptions, against which Skywarp's essential systems had been hardened. So Skywarp took the risk to his sanity and lived through the brief moments of visual madness.

Skywarp found the space he wanted to be and tore open a rent in reality and slipped back into an alcove in a darkly lit corridor. Several figures clanked slowly past him, moving toward the barricade. Time dilation always affected Skywarp while teleporting. Slowly orienting he found himself in shadowed recessed hatchway behind the Autobot barricade. Reality snapped back into normal speed. The whole process had taken less than a second. He recognised Prowl and Mirage immediately at the front of the barricade, and Jazz and Bluestreak amongst two of the new comers. Overdrive lay on the floor behind the barricade clutching his shoulder. There was danger that Overdrive might see him. The barricade was now fully manned and Prowl was re-deploying some of the new arrivals to other vantage points around the end of the cargo bay. This was a vital choke point. Once the Decepticons could break out of the airlock and antechamber they could break out into the ship at random. There were now seven Autobots in front of him. Skywarp prioritised his targets and shifted his extended arms towards Prowl and Bluestreak and sighted a cannon along each arm.

 

Prowl moved to give Mirage a better firing angle when Mirage cried out and collapsed across the barricade, his back smoking. Someone fell against his back and there was a thump from the right suggesting another Autobot had done the same thing. Prowl started to turn, belatedly noticing the chatter of heavy calibre projectile weapons, trying to shove the deadweight of what turned out to be Jazz, off himself, and taking in the collapsed Bluestreak as Sunstreaker was firing back behind him when fire exploded across the yellow warriors form. Jazz was trying vainly to raise his wounded gun arm from where Prowl had shoved him. Prowl recognised Skywarp immediately but the Decepticon was bringing a cannon back to centre on Prowl.  
"Prime, we need.." orange glint and blackness.

 

"Prowl? PROWL?" When Optimus Prime got no answer the likely options appeared ugly. The most likely was that the Decepticons had broken out of the antechamber. If they could break out of the hold, then the battle was likely lost.

"All Autobots concentrate forces on the hold, the Decepticons must be contained and repelled." Optimus Prime abandoned his bridge post and headed for the passageway, Jetfire at his heels, transforming into vehicular modes as they went and leaving control of the Ark to Teletran One.

 

With Frenzy, the wounded Rumble and the two avians laying ranging fire at Autobot strongpoints across and around the various obstacles in the hold Soundwave strode confidently forward down the centre passageway, his own concussion blaster firing in one hand while in the other he held the massive particle beam cannon of Megatron in his transformed mode. Megatron was independently traversing and firing, using Soundwave's arm as a steadying platform while Soundwave focused on his own weapon. This was the sight presented to Optimus Prime and Jetfire upon reaching the hold at Ironhide's upper level gallery. Prime took in the initial barricade, now overrun, with collapsed figures strewn around it including the dark figure of Skywarp. Most of the fire from below was headed towards Ironhide's position. Some Autobots were down in the hold proper; Prime thought he could detect Hound using his hologram to spoof the Decepticon gunners. There was a loud explosion from across the hold as another gallery shattered from a missile fired at point blank range.

"That was Sidewipe's position, Prime," said Ironhide grimly. "That was probably that animal scragger of Soundwaves." If it had been Ravages handiwork, they'd never know. Spotting that Decepticon before it stuck a weapon where you didn't want was no small feat. As Ironhide stepped back from his station at the ledge Prime struck his cannon down a vantage point and hit Soundwave in the torso with his first shot, smashing the large blue 'Con backwards to the floor. Megatron immediately transformed and found cover. Prime laid down a volley of shots, supported by Jetfire and Camshaft.

 

With the two vessels locked together the Gunship Nemesis' automated piloting assistance systems were fighting with the Ark's own systems. The two vessels were now in a barely controlled descent. Soon all aboard both vessels would recognise the imminent danger, but already it was too late to avoid. Shockwave was torn by indecision. He had to inform Megatron to evacuate the ship. But evacuate to where? Megatron wasn't answering his messages. He sent the information as a data link and left the bridge for the airlock.

 

 

"I can not get to anyone by Prowl's position; I have no idea of the condition of any of them. Sideswipe will need a new arm for that little act of stupidity, and Huffer has serious internal wounds. I have done all I can for him but I need this battle to end." Ratchet sat straddled over Camshaft, welding on a field dressing as he reported to Optimus. Ironhide sat groggily next to Camshaft. The veteran Autobot had been dazed after taking a hit from a missile intended for Optimus. Jetfire was gone, moved to another position near the roof of the bay. He had to move after Thundercracker and Starscream had entered the hold in a barrage of fire, which had put Hound down before Optimus optics and Gears wasn't reporting in either. Sideswipe had emerged from his shattered balcony with his jetpack thrusting, crash tackling Thundercracker out of the air. The manoeuvre had cost Sideswipe dear, as Ratchet had suggested but it had taken another invader down. Goldbug had reported retreating from Sideswipe's former balcony dragging a wounded Downshift with him. A small dark figure with red highlights appeared around the corner of a silo and Prime blasted him down before really checking the figures identity and hoped it wasn't Gears. It was Rumble though who cried and went down. The whole vessel started shaking.

"Was that Rumble?" asked Ratchet, now helping Camshaft to his feet.

"Yes," said Optimus, but he was not sure. The shaking continued well after the vibrational Decepticon went down and stayed down. A thought rammed home with the surging chill of impending doom.

"Jetfire, Wheeljack, can either of you access Teletran? Are we de-orbiting?" Ratchet and Camshaft looked around sharply at Optimus' question and even the groggy Ironhide seemed to pay more attention.

"Sorry Optimus," was Jetfire's clear concise tones. "Busy." Optimus glanced to the left where he thought Jetfire was and saw Buzzsaw and Starscream had pinned down the aerial Autobot.

"Teletran is vague on the point, but I believe that to be the case. It looks like the Decepticon gunship is dragging us out of orbit," said a worried sounding Wheeljack. "I am heading for the bridge." Optimus hesitated only a moment. Help was needed. The situation was suddenly beyond petty squabbles. Stepping from cover Optimus stood in full view from the observation gallery.

"MEGATRON!"

Megatron paused. He had seen a flash of red and had been bringing his cannon around. There was something in the tone of voice though, something that required a reply, if only some playful repartee.

"Surrendering Prime?"

 

"We need your help." Megatron openly laughed.

"I think not Prime. We will soon have you and your ship, then we will be able to help ourselves."

"We are de-orbiting." Only now did Megatron finally wonder if the vibrations, steadily growing, were something other than Rumble. Megatron saw the black and red figure of Rumble lying prone behind him. Megatron then belatedly noticed a data message from Shockwave. He remembered ignoring several messages from Shockwave, but now opened the data mail message from Shockwave. The contents were alarming.

"Shockwave! Where are you?"

 

"Several kilometres above Nemesis, Megatron. I will lose contact with you shortly as both vessels are now entering the planets atmosphere." From Shockwaves position he could see the gunship taking the brunt of the entry and was already glowing with friction. Probability stated the two vessels would tumble and break-up. Survival chances for any Cybertronians on board were a grim, but wide variable. "I will attempt to regain contact as and when I can." To Megatron it sounded almost like a farewell, but alone and shipless would not see Shockwave well. He would be as dependent on their survival as everyone on board.

 

While Megatron deliberated it was already too late. The forward sections of Gunship Nemesis were already glowing fiercely from heat friction. The buffeting increased beyond the capacity of any of the Cybertronians to successfully maintain balance. Speed had picked up and gee forces added to the difficulties. Aboard the Ark, Teletran One fought to keep the vessels from tumbling. One by one it could sense the consciousness of the Cybertronians aboard failing. Teletran noticed this in the periphery, what runtime the descent commanded, Teletran gave it. The Decepticon gunship already appeared damaged beyond the ability to fly again, but was still stubbornly attached.

As suddenly as it had started the violence was gone. The atmosphere had been penetrated successfully but any of the Ark's atmospheric capabilities were thoroughly compromised by Gunship Nemesis. The Gunship had to go for anyone to survive the catastrophic descent towards the surface. But no one aboard the Ark was capable of assisting Teletran.

 

Following as best as he was able, Shockwave chased hard down into the planets atmosphere. He took the atmospheric entry considerably slower than the ships, but had started earlier, anticipating the wild descent. Shockwave was still far behind the two vessels but was catching now. Shockwave could tell someone was trying, and failing to control the descent. It took several more minutes, but Shockwave arrived at the same decision as Teletran One. Closing until within accurate firing range, Shockwave folded in upon himself, transforming into a large cannon. Shockwave spent several long minutes watching the two vessels, trying to anticipate which way the vessels rocked, then fired.

 

Teletran saw the thick purple beam coming in. It was in no position to mount a defence and could do nought but analyse where it would hit. The beam struck in the middle of the etheric gantry-way that stubbornly connected the two vessels, penetrating and ripping what the forces of the descent had not. The damage was not complete, but the still constant buffeting completed it, and Gunship Nemesis tore away from the Ark. Teletran was finally able to control the descent. Arresting it would be impossible. There was too much damage to the gravitational floaters. At range Teletran detected a Cybertronian pursuing the tumbling Gunship Nemesis. There might be time to save both vessels. Teletran now focused on the inevitable landing attempt, or rather, how to control the crash. The Ark's large wing area helped to steady the great ship, but it was still going to be rough. The Ark was headed towards the smaller of the two main continental landmasses, on what was plainly a very wet world. There was some plain flat country before a mountain range that seemed be the spot the Ark had chosen to crash into. Teletran took the auto-repair systems off line and placed them in reset for the eventual crash with some additional programming parameters to prioritise on the survivors. The ground rushed up to meet them as Teletran fought vainly to steer the Ark away from a Mountain, then gave up to get the craft as level as possible for impact. An emergency defence mechanism was activated, as per Ironhide's orders for the defence of any Autobots from the Decepticons, but whether the sleepers could operate after the impact was open to question.

Teletran's last acts were to secure the fuel systems against impact, disconnecting them, start the fire retardant systems before the crash and activate the sleepers and set the scanners to provide them with localised templates.

The Ark had been designed with the possibility of entering an atmosphere, thus was considerably sturdier than a space-faring vessel needed to be. This construction saved the lives of those on board. The vessel plastered in still carrying a lot of speed, digging a deep furrow in the ground. The nose stayed up so the craft did not flip over. The ships defensive armour plating was destroyed but it saved the ship allowing it to come to rest against the base of a mountain more or less intact. The fire retardant continued to spray until there was none left. After a good long pause some of the auto repair robots came to life and began to buzz around the survivors, assessing those in greatest need. The robots concentrated on those whose spark was in jeopardy, and that took up all of the robots available. With Teletran down, there was no guidance for the small robots, nor any attempt to collate the data or to discriminate between friend and foe...


	3. Pre-History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dinobots awaken within the hull of a crashed spaceship and it seems no-one else is alive. Until someone starts shooting at them.

The air was chill and thin. A faint film of condensation covered some surfaces. Wind whistled about the room, coming in through a huge rent in one wall. Outside was pitch black, with just a vague hint of movement. A couple of clouds were starting the get vague highlights of colour as the local star started to cross the horizon somewhere out of view. Lights flickered and danced across the consoles revealing and displaying all kinds of information; minutiae about craft and environment, air speed, atmospheric conditions, metallurgical data. But for the single yellow unblinking eye in an impassive face, nothing impressed. It was the metallurgical data the tall mauve-grey Cyclops was after.

Shockwave stood at the controls of Gunship Nemesis, or rather what used to be Gunship Nemesis, as another grid square was completed. Shockwave had now been searching for 36 local days, flying Nemesis high enough to conserve fuel in such a thick atmosphere, but low enough for the more delicate sensors to do their work. Shockwave had started searching the eastern coast on the continental landmass the Ark crashed on and gradually moved west. It had been 102 local days since the initial battle. Shockwave was now only spending an hour each day conscious as he tried to conserve energon in this wild pre-industrialised place. It had taken 64 days to repair Gunship Nemesis sufficiently to make it airworthy again and another two to travel across a great plain of water from the largest to the second largest continental land mass. Airworthy was a generous description. Space worthy could never happen without the services of a vacuum-dock, something plainly not in evidence on this world. The once graceful lines of the ship were shattered.

In the moments after losing contact with the Ark, Shockwave had caught Gunship Nemesis in time and fought his way through a fresh hole, no doubt his own work from his rash technique of separating the two craft, straight onto the bridge. There were enough active systems remaining to bring Nemesis under control, barely 1000 metres from impact. Which was just as well, as Nemesis would not have been able to survive a crash. Shockwave made a barely controlled landing on the coast of the largest continental land mass. Nemesis was no longer space worthy that much had been obvious. That characteristic had not changed but over a period of weeks, but Shockwave had made the vessel airworthy.

In the initial week since landfall, Shockwave had speculated endlessly about the fate of those aboard the Ark. There had not been a single probe in all that time, or since. There was no beacon. There had been no transmissions. This world was electronically dead and Shockwave held it in contempt. Of most concern though was there had been no telemetry from any Spark that had been aboard the Ark. No sign of Starscream or his seekers screaming across the skies. No transmissions from Soundwave. Nor were there any sign of Jetfire or Sideswipe, the two flight capable Autobots thought to be on board the Ark. There was absolutely no indication that anything else was alive on this planet, apart from the indigenous life forms, which were extremely primitive.

The search began anew in another grid square. Gunship Nemesis wasn't equipped for a metallurgical survey, or for search and rescue. Basic sensors should theoretically be able to pinpoint a large amount of processed metal though. Gunship Nemesis was now approaching a Mountain range, which had some fresh volcanic activity. The quantities of molten rock would make a mess of sensor readings. Sure enough, large chunks of metal started appearing, but it was a very high density. Could it be? Shockwave reset the sensors to search out for the sparks of Megatron and the others, only to find the signal jammed. Under the circumstances, that was good enough.

 

Against a background of a hash of static and increasingly failing sensors something was detected flying at altitude with far too much precision for the local reptilian life. Weeks before, local templates had been grafted to the sleepers but they had not been awakened. Activating the five sleepers would require resources that had earlier been prioritised towards tending the casualties. With the casualties stabilised and a threat now current, the command was given and the sleepers slowly began to awaken. With the process almost finished it failed, suddenly and completely. The sleepers would now have to awaken themselves, and the possibility of side effects was high. But the Ark knew no more, having used everything it had awakening the sleepers for defence it was now spent. Temperatures dropped rapidly and the interior became not unlike a tomb. In an upper level, things were stirring....

 

A kilometre from the metallic anomaly, Shockwave parked Gunship Nemesis and continued in slowly and carefully on foot. If the Ark could detect him, it had undoubtedly seen Nemesis. Shockwave advanced carefully, observing the ground for any prepared traps.

 

Awareness. Darkness. Containment. Something solid in front. Push. PUSH. SMASH! BASH! PUSH! Open. Who am I? Push away door. Who am I? Gr. Grrrr. Grimlock! I am GRIMLOCK! Where am I? Is this Ark? Why no light? Where friends?

"Ssss." Voice not work. "Slrrgg. Slag. Is Slag there?"

"Am I Slag?"

"I am Snarl."

"I am Grimlock."

"Swoop thinks Swoop is Swoop and not Slag."

"I am not Grimlock or Snarl or Swoop. I am Slag."

"No I am Slag. You are Swoop."

"No he is Swoop."

"Yes Swoop is Swoop."

"He who is not Slag is Sludge."

"Or you Slag or am I Slag?"

"We all here. We go see Optimus. Ask why awake in place with no light." Grimlock's patience was being tested by this discussion.

"Which way go?"

"Not this way. This wall does not smash like first wall."

"Fetch weapons and follow Grimlock."

"That is Slag's gun."

"Yes I am Slag."

"You not Sludge?"

 

Shockwave could see very little of the Ark. A landslide had covered most of its form. Two sublight thrust vents were exposed. Some jutting wreckage had formed a tunnel beside the hull. The rock material looked stable on first glance. A hatchway was partially exposed, one sufficiently large that Shockwave could enter comfortably. The arched tunnel would also be a perfect ambush spot.

Shockwave's sensors probed the gap, found nothing; then Shockwave raised his right arm, the arm with the cannon built into it replacing the more common hand. At its mildest setting Shockwave fired, the sound of the broad-spectrum bolt echoing around the confined space. Shockwave reached the access hatch and studied the mechanism. Clearly there was no power. A pair of small leads emerged from Shockwave's gun arm and snaked towards a socket beside the hatchway. The smallest amount of power necessary pulsed along one lead and the hatch retracted. The door stayed open as Shockwave moved through the first door, then repeated the process on the other side of the airlock. There was no light beyond the door. Shockwave shifted around the light wave frequencies, trying to find the best method of sight before moving forward again, studying the last telemetry feed received from his fellows during the attack to get a layout of the Ark.

 

"Why you not speak to us Optimus?" Grimlock had found the shattered hold area of the Ark. Bodies had been strewn everywhere, almost all of them unfamiliar to Grimlock. More of them should have been familiar but for some reason Grimlock couldn't tell why. Perhaps that was something wrong in itself, but Grimlock struggled to care. He was standing over the prone form of Optimus Prime who lay below what used to be one of the holds inspection galleries.

"Where are we Optimus?" Optimus didn't reply. Grimlock's fellows were moving around the hold looking for anyone familiar. Swoop moved in beside Grimlock and pointed towards a figure sticking out of the remains of the inspection gallery.

"Swoop thinks Swoop see Ratchet."

"Good. Ratchet make us better. Go bring Ratchet here." To the familiar crunching sound Swoop folded into his alternative shape. It was different from what it was supposed to be.

"Can Swoop still fly in strange shape?" Swoop flapped his wings experimentally and paused then fired off his thrusters and pushed on the air, flying up to the remains of the balcony. After a couple of minutes Swoop looked over the edge down at Grimlock.

"Ratchet not talk to Swoop. Swoop think Ratchet not well."

"Is anybody here talking?"

"Slag can talk."

"Yes I can talk."

"You are Sludge."

"No I am Slag."

"Even Megatron not talking." Grimlock started at Snarl's voice, which carried over the continuing identity crisis of Slag and Sludge. If there was one name that stuck in Grimlock's head more than Optimus Prime's it was Megatron. Finding Megatron here on a dead Autobot ship was a shock, even to Grimlock's dulled mind. Grimlock thumped his way over to where Snarl was, followed by Swoop, gliding over from his elevated position.

 

Shockwave moved very slowly now. He could hear voices deep within the Ark. They were strange voices. The inflections were almost familiar but there was something wrong with the voices. His battle files would not provide identification. Shockwave started shunting power to his laser gun arm, and the focus began to glow with a vaguely purple light. He arrived at the door to the hold where he knew the battle had taken place.

The first body he came across was Skywarp's. He lay prone having fallen forward from an alcove. Before him lay an impressive collection of Autobots at a barricade. Skywarp had done outstandingly well; Prowl and Jazz were here, two of Optimus Primes most senior Lieutenants, along with Bluestreak and Sunstreaker two noted capable warriors. Shockwave knelt beside Skywarp and examined him briefly. He extended a cable from his left arm and plugged it into a socket on Skywarp's side and called up a diagnostic. Power levels were so low as to be in hibernation. Shockwave briefly surmised everyone here must be in a similar state. Or worse. Shockwave re-routed some of Skywarp's priorities towards self-repair. With so much damage it would take a while without outside assistance. A long while. But it was all Shockwave could do for now. He ignored the Autobots and looked deeper into the hold. Finding Megatron must have priority for the moment.

Shockwave gently pushed the body of Mirage aside and climbed over the barricade as stealthily as possible. Two hundred metres away two glinting figures were arguing over something. Shockwave's two head mounted receivers twitched, trying to pick up the conversation. Incredulously Shockwave realised they were arguing over their identity! Selecting a hard phased plasma laser, Shockwave trained his gun arm outwards in case he was seen and moved across the aisle quietly.

 

Grimlock looked down at the prone figure in front of Snarl. There was no mistaking Megatron. There was a niggling memory somewhere about Megatron. Something Ironhide has said. Who was Ironhide? Did it matter? Grimlock shook his troubled head. Remembering was so hard. There was one thing he could do positively. Grimlock thumbed a button in the hilt of his Energo Sword. As far as could be told, Megatron was alive but unaware.

"I think we end Megatron. Do Autobots great service," said Grimlock. Snarl said nothing but took a step back while Swoop hissed with glee, as the distant argument became the only conversation. Grimlock's sword hummed into life, spreading cold white light around the immediate area, highlighting Megatron's grey torso and cranial armour.

 

Shockwave stepped around a corner past the prostrate form of Rumble to see a figure he finally recognised as Grimlock holding a powered sword with the clear intention of decapitating Megatron. NO! It MUST NOT happen! Shockwave trained his gun arm out at Grimlock and fired as the huge Autobot had the sword raised overhead. The purple-white beam smashed Grimlock to one side but instantly attracted the attention of the other two he didn't immediately recognise. One looked like it would try to fly, stretching a pair of wings as it started to transform, instantly making him Shockwave's next target for blasting. The Autobot was caught mid-transformation and crashed to the deck hard. The third was firing now and Shockwave fled. He heard crashing somewhere off to his right and amplified voices. Presumably the argument was on hold.

Shockwave focussed on the hatchway leading from the hold while in the background he called up files on Grimlock and the four brutish cronies that associated with him. The second downed warrior was Swoop with Snarl behind him while Slag and Sludge would be moving to cut him off. None of the three still standing were towering intelligences. There was something in the snatches of conversation he had heard though that scaled the assessment down further. Shockwave turned a corner and leapt over the barricade with Skywarp and his attendant victims, firing boot thrusters and activating his gravity repulsers and shot down the access corridor like a bullet. He had a brief glimpse of Slag and Sludge arriving from a connecting corridor, too slow to intercept. Shockwave crashed himself into the far wall and bounced into the hatchway and was on his way outside and clear.

 

Several hours later Grimlock gathered his forces. Not a single Autobot could be raised from whatever form of slumber they were in. Teletran was down and Grimlock did not have the knowledge, or didn't think he had, to repair anything. The live Decepticon had been a rude shock, but Soundwave, Grimlock has misidentified his assailant, had been unable to seriously harm the heavily armoured Grimlock. Swoop was another matter. One wing had been damaged, seriously compromising his ability to fly. The others were unharmed, but mad at letting the Decepticon escape. Almost as mad as Grimlock was for being injured by one.

"Soundwave is using Decepticon small ship to escape us," said Snarl, reporting on Shockwave's escape. "Without Swoop we unable to hurt flying ship."

"You not try hard enough."

"We try hard. Where was Grimlock?" Grimlock ignored Slag's question.

"We must find Soundwave and punish him."

"Swoop asks if Grimlock still want to end Megatron?" Grimlock considered that one.

"We punish Soundwave first."

"How we do that?"

"Soundwave leak much energon. Wounded Decepticon ship also leak energon. We can follow with this," Grimlock held up a deactivated scanner. "Wheeljack show me once."

"Where is Wheeljack?" This question made Grimlock uneasy.

"Not remember what Wheeljack look like. Any Autobot see him?" There was no response apart from Sludge who said 'No'.

"Are you not remembering right?" Grimlock continued. One by one his fellows confirmed. The beginnings of a nasty suspicion formed. But only the beginnings. Reasoning was not coming easily to Grimlock. Snarl took the scanner and was turning it over.

"There is no power."

"No. We must find some."

"Then we not chase Soundwave now?" There was a long pause.

"No. We find Autobot that will talk to us, or make Teletran talk."


	4. Future Shocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shockwave finds himself the sole survivor of the crash of the Nemesis and has to devise a method of defeating the Dinobots without assistance.

In the darkness of the long night of this planet Shockwave was again working hard at the wounded systems of Nemesis, trying to revive another part of the broken spaceship. Shockwave needed a plan. He also needed options, and at least some vague perspective over what was going to happen to him long-term. While considering options Shockwave completed repairs to long-range transmitter. It was not an easy task. Communicating via faster than light techniques was almost as difficult as navigating faster than light. It needed two open hyperspace egress conduits, and there was precious little out here capable of generating a conduit remotely. Shockwave had previously found an Autobot probe in orbit that indicated it could make an egress to allow it to report back to its mothership. Its limited power supply though meant only a few conduits could be created, maybe three at the most. Once Shockwave had a working hypercomm transmitter he overwhelmed the probes command structure to allow Decepticon signals access.

"Decepticon Command and Control, this is Shockwave, respond." Shockwave only had to send twice to receive a reply from DC&C's permanently open communications conduit. The visage on screen was familiar.

"Shockwave. Report," replied the small but exaggerated head of Ratbat.

"Megatron's expeditionary strike team has made landfall with vessel badly damaged but mission successful. Require medical evacuation to Cybertron."

"Excellent. We'll send a vessel at once. Now, details. How many wounded?" 

"All bar this unit," stated Shockwave, who then continued to detail the mission at length.

 

 

"So Optimus Prime and Megatron are off line and marooned on another world, far from regular space lanes with no space worthy vessel. This presents opportunities," said an increasingly thoughtful Ratbat. Ratbat straightened suddenly as if a decision had been made. "Shockwave, what is your exact location?"

"A world called Sol 3. Here are the co-ordinates."

"Shockwave, you are breaking up. Please repeat." Ratbat's image remained perfectly clear. Shockwave repeated his message.

"I'm sorry Shockwave I've lost your signal," reported Ratbat impassively. The image winked out. According to the hypercomm system, it had been turned off at the other end. Shockwave waited two hours and reinitialised the conduit. The Autobot probe responded quickly enough, but DC&C was off the air. The conduit that never closed would not receive Shockwave's signal. This required thought.

If the Autobots had discovered DC&C, or even if there had been just a fault in the system, then the conduit would be re-established later. However Ratbat's final responses had been worrisome. Could he be planning something in Megatron's absence? The Autobot probe remained in orbit, and remained a possibility for use, but what he needed was a system capable of searching for open conduits other than DC&C, and Nemesis’ systems were no longer capable of that.

Shockwave now had to return to the Ark.

Which meant a showdown with Grimlock. Five against one did bear thinking about. Megatron had to return to Cybertron. Shockwave desperately needed more than superior strategy, he needed more firepower. With that in mind, Shockwave turned towards the gunnery station and prepared himself for more extensive maintenance.

 

When the scanner Grimlock had championed continued not working he quickly lost patience with it. Sludge was more curious and had started slapping it to see if a loose connector might start working. After the third slap the device was useless to anyone. After a fourth it had been reduced to components. By this stage Grimlock had decided that 'Soundwave' was going to come back to the Ark, simply because they could hold the rest of his cohorts hostage. Grimlock realising this was not the best idea now refused to be talked out of it, as it was his only idea and he had stopped trying to think of new ones.

While Grimlock brooded, the others had no clear idea of what to do, so they amused themselves. Slag was randomly burning combustible objects around him. Sludge and Snarl started fights with each other or with Slag. Slag usually chose not to join in, sending gouts of flaming material at them. Swoop on the other hand did what he most loved, and using his new streamlined shape he practiced gliding, trying to fly as far as possible while using his engines as little as possible. It was while doing this that he first noticed the approach of Nemesis.

"Grimlock! Swoop sees Soundwave coming here." Grimlock's head snapped around as did Slag, while Sludge and Snarl took no notice, intent on playfully gnawing each other to death.

 

Shockwave noticed one Autobot was flying, an aerial high guard. Nemesis would be seen far too early. A deception would be required, but fortunately it would not have to be very convincing. Shockwave quickly scanned Nemesis weapons systems and found a rearward facing gunnery turret that was already badly damaged and had not been necessary to repair. Shockwave set the turret to charge, while making sure the discharge inhibitors on that turret were non-functional. It would continue charging until the turret melted from overcharging. Chances were it would find something combustible first and....

 

Swoop, still gliding around while awaiting orders from the flustered Grimlock, saw the small explosion at the rear of the Gunship; the vessel lurched to the left and crashed the small distance to the ground. Smoke belched from the rear of the craft through the small hole but quickly foamed up as the vacuum rated hull repair system misfired in the thick atmosphere of the planet.

"Grimlock, back of Decepticon ship all smoky."

"Swoop, stay up high and bomb Soundwave if he sticks ugly head out of ship," ordered Grimlock. "Autobots spread apart and head for pointy end of Decepticon ship. If you see Soundwave, attack him. Beware of Soundwave's sonic weapons." Grimlock suited actions to words and transformed. The armoured plates over his back rotating forward to form the extended torso and head while his legs retracted and the tail folded together, creating a metallic version of a local carbon based form. The others, already in their imitation reptile forms moved slowly across the ruined field with its deep, de-vegetated, Ark created furrow, towards the Decepticon vessel.

 

From the bridge of the Nemesis, Shockwave observed the Autobots clumsily moving into some version of a surrounding or pincer movement. It was hard to tell it was so poorly executed. He immediately picked out Grimlock amongst the quartet, striding arrogantly through the vegetation with no thought of surprise or concealment. For the moment their incompetence made them less threatening. The flying one, Swoop, however was another matter. He had manoeuvrability, and speed the others lacked, while not losing significants amounts of firepower in the process. He had to be taken down now. Shockwave transformed into his weapon mode, arms stretching upwards and unfolding into a barrel while his legs retracted forming a firing platform as his torso split and unfolded and lengthened. Shockwave's barrel was trained outwards and skywards through the huge rent in the bridge, which had been there since planet-fall and had not been repaired. Against his remodelled legs, Shockwave elevated and let his instinctive tracking pick the Autobot out of the sky. With his barrel hidden from view of the others Swoop would get no warning.

"Sludge must move quicker or we not bash Soundwave together," snarled Grimlock with an oil lust filling his head with the Decepticon who dared shoot him. A thick purple-white beam flashed briefly from the prow of the gunship. Swoop squawked once and fell from the sky like a stone.

"Swoop! Tell me you still be fighting." There was no answer to Grimlock's hail. While Grimlock tried to get Swoops attention, Soundwave appeared as if by magic out of the side of the ship, weapon trained out towards, but not directly at Grimlock. Soundwave's gun arm held no weapon but ended in a fiercely glowing tube, which fired a very un-sonic energy weapon at that moment, and Snarl cried out and thumped to the ground. Slag responded, sending a stream of fire gel hosing towards the Decepticon Grimlock had decided wasn't actually Soundwave after all. At the limit of Slag's range the Decepticon managed to retreat from the spray. At that point Grimlock decided his armoured form would not help against this Decepticon and transformed again, freeing up an arm to use his blaster. The purple Decepticon was turning his attention to Sludge now, why not Grimlock. Grimlock lined up his sights and fired.

 

Shockwave avoided the flamethrower with ease but his thermal imaging was momentarily a mess, after sending a scarcely aimed shot back towards the flamethrower Shockwave searched for targets, missing Grimlock for the moment with his semi-blinded sensors, but picking out the slowest moving of the four ground based Autobots and rapidly fired three shots in his direction when he was smashed to one side by a graze. The large purple figure, twisted in mid air and fired down what he hoped was a reciprocal bearing before finally surrendering the high ground and sheltering beside the bulk of Nemesis. Grimlock and Slag would be out of view on the other side of Nemesis' prow, but Sludge and the wounded Snarl should be somewhere in front of him. Of the four these two were the least able to project firepower, so Shockwave felt momentarily safer. Snarl appeared at that moment, dorsal fins glowing bright and snarling like Ravage. He crashed through the undergrowth showing no signs of the direct hit he had received before. Shockwave's battle files had shown a vulnerability for Snarl when shaded from solar power, and abruptly thrust his gun arm outwards, shifting spectrum to phased array radar. Quickly plotting Slags position he burst from hiding thrusting and flying vertically away from Nemesis and roughly towards Snarl. Before reaching Snarl, he loosed a volley of shots towards Slag who responded in kind, spewing flaming liquid in Shockwave's direction and covering Snarl's scaly armour, damaging his solar collection fins. Shockwave slammed into Snarl pushing the strange animal form onto his side before thrusting past Sludge who was to slow to put a weapon on his direction.

The Decepticon, Grimlock still struggled to find a match in his battle files and suspected they might be damaged, was now running away from the Gunship towards terrain Swoop had scouted previously. There was a deep and narrow ravine that had been filling up with viscous material since Grimlock had found the outside world. Shockwave was moving towards the widest part with Sludge leading the pursuit with a much-slowed Snarl. Grimlock transformed again to move over terrain faster and catch up with Slag and Snarl. A thought occurred.

"Autobots, push Decepticon who might not be Soundwave towards widest part of ground hole, maybe we push him off cliff." Sludge had transformed into warrior mode and was firing his weapon towards the Decepticon as the others closed in.

 

The first one, the slow one, had reached the edge of vegetation near the cliff edge and Shockwave hunkered down, resisting the force of Sludges blasts while he waited to for the other three to move into the trap the Shockwave had had to change very little to ensnare these dullards. He sent the signal towards Nemesis computer to fire up the docking anti-gravitational system.

 

There was a sudden noise behind Grimlock, but he was so focused on the Decepticon that he all but dismissed it. The vegetation was thrashing about in the sudden wind that had whipped up and there was a buzzing in the air before the roar of heavy weaponry and Sludge was blasted to one side. He transformed and was blasted again, smashed over the edge of a suddenly crumbling cliff. Snarl was smashed next as Grimlock turned and saw the Decepticon gunship, suddenly not so damaged was floating towards them and the huge main guns were firing at the Autobots and into the ground around them. Grimlock ran to one side, forcing the guns to traverse if they were to track him. Looking sideways, the Decepticon had his gun arm outstretched and it was pulsing softly, but not firing that he could tell.

 

Shockwave stood still, gun arm trained out towards the bridge where he has firing a modulated laser for manipulating the telemetry for flying and firing Nemesis. Already one Autobot was sinking into the pit below. Grimlock was darting away from the fire zone, so the guns traversed and fired at the huge Autobot, forcing him to retreat cliff wards. Slag was up now and focussing towards Shockwave instead of the oncoming Gunship. Shockwave, looking through Nemesis' sensor suite could see the animalistic form of Slag moving towards the representation of his own body. A thermal bloom appeared in Slag's thorax indicating Slag's was about to unleash his flamethrower. Revelling in the power of the spaceship, Shockwave was unaware of the personal danger he was under, and brought the ships guns to bear, releasing a fusillade on the charging Autobot. The cliff side crumbled around Slag and seemingly in slow motion the Autobot tumbled after its fellow, the guns swept past Shockwave himself undermining his own footing before blasting the burn-blackened figure of Snarl into the viscous pit. Shockwave was himself now falling into the pit after having shot away his own footing; the telemetry link to Nemesis was broken suddenly....

.... snapping Shockwave back into his own body. He quickly fired his anti gravity systems and propellant to stay airborne, but he was falling, off balance and caromed off the cliff side, out of control. Incoherent snarls of rage came from below him as Slag and Snarl vented their frustration verbally. Of Sludge there was no sign. Slag tried once more to hit his enemy with his flammable spray but his head, almost under the surface was impaired by the fluid, and unable to aim properly. Still Shockwave crashed against the cliff side again whilst flinching away from the Autobot. He rose quickly now looking down below before spinning to the right as he rose over the cliff edge. Nemesis came into view first, sideslipping to the right, but still maintaining altitude. He reached outwards with his arm to re-establish contact.

PAIN! Tremendous pain! The whole left side of Shockwave's body screamed in pain. The Decepticon twisted his blank face further around to see the black head of Grimlock lit strangely in the glow from his energo sword, dug deep into Shockwave's side, the Autobot behemoth pressing the sword in further, trying to cleave Shockwave in two. With his left arm, his gauntlet reached out and grabbed the hilt of the sword, over Grimlock's two hands. For a few moments the two stood locked together before Shockwave brought his gun barrel against Grimlock's head and pulsed hard radiation through it at point blank range. The Autobot released the sword and fell after his fellows. Grunting with pain and the effort of doing so, Shockwave dragged the deactivated sword from his flank.

For long moment Shockwave floated over the pit as Grimlock sank from sight beneath the surface of the fluid. He had done it. Against five to one odds he had defeated, the thought stopped, his pain dulled mind suddenly wrapped around the concept of five. There was a puzzle that screamed for an urgent answer when pain re-erupted in his back, and he fell towards the surface of the thickly viscous pool, splashing down hard. A voice whispered in his ear weakly....

"Got you Soundwave." As Shockwave's sensors began to be overwhelmed, the last sight his sensors recorded was the long narrow head of Swoops animalistic form and a vestigial talon locked into his own shoulder. Shockwave tried to raise his gun arm to summon Nemesis, but the side slipping Gunship was no longer in line of sight for the modulated laser to reach. Shockwave raged against his failure and cried for the future of his race. Without Megatron to lead them, the Decepticons on Cybertron would surely be overwhelmed. Shockwaves sensors went dark. His distress beacon activated, but went unheard. There was no one left to hear it...


	5. Revivalist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young mechanic on a wilderness jaunt in Oregan, stumbles across the first evidence Earth has been visited by another culture centuries ago.

The air was warm and thick with fine dust. A faint film of dust covered some exposed surfaces. Wind whistled about the cabin, coming in through open spaces of the vehicle. Outside was heavily clouded with a thick air of particulate matter. All but the sun was hidden from view in the heavily dusted environs; the yellow star was bloody red smear in the sky. Needles flickered slightly on the console revealing and displaying limited amounts of information; vehicle speed, engine performance and basic diagnostic tools. Where two eyes might have been in an impassive face, dark sunglasses and an air mask hid any impression.

Brent 'Buster' Witwicky sat in the driver's seat of his venerable but trustworthy Jeep as the kilometres clicked over. Buster had been one of very few vehicles travelling north towards Mount St. Helens in the last few hours. Determined to help in the aftermath of the volcanic explosion, Buster had drifted north. His younger brother Spike often rode him over his sensitive side.

The air was a mix of noises, a high pitched rumbling from the off-road specification tyres measuring out kilometre after kilometre of bitumen, tinny music from an underpowered radio speaker, wind noise whistling off the sharp corners of the old open cabin Jeep Wrangler and the semi-distant thumping of two bladed Bell helicopters. A sound, which altered suddenly as the more shrill whiney sound of a Dauphine helicopter, flew overhead. The distinctive sound from the French made helicopters enclosed tail rotor providing counterpoint for the louder but more distant Bells. It was probably a news chopper Buster decided.

Helicopters had been overtaking him all morning, setting out for the site of the disaster. The tinny music paused, heralding another news update. The driver took his right hand off the steering wheel, briefly touched the gearstick, mentally reassuring himself that he was in overdrive. As the Dauphine faded into the background noise, Buster could see a ravine approaching. In the midst of this volcanic activity, the violence of the ancients, Buster pondered about geography and what this ravine might have been millions of years ago. As the bridge approached Buster was had an impulse to stop. Just before the bridge, Buster pulled over to the shoulder and climbed from the car.

It felt good to stretch his legs, but the shifting of his body from a seated position reminded him of a bodily need he had ignored for several hours. Way out here on the highway heading north that moved gradually towards the Cascades, what cars there were flashed past quickly, heading south towards the Nevadan oasis of Las Vegas. Feeling unobserved Buster moved down the slope behind the bridge abutment to relieve himself, hidden from the traffic by the Jeep and the bridge structure.

As Buster was finishing, there was a light in the distant mountains; an intensely white jet. It was only there for a moment. As Buster clambered back up the small slope he saw it again. Looking at across the plains, Buster noticed it was coming from the direction the ravine disappeared in. Might it be something connected with the eruption? Was a second volcano appearing?

Re-mounting the jeep he headed off the interstate and towards the mountains. The day was still young there was plenty of time.

 

The first parts of the Ark to notice anything were a few of the surviving short-range passive sensors. Temperature fluctuations in the surrounding rock had not been this substantial since the beginning. Energon collectors began collecting small amounts of energy, which was channelled directly to Teletran, which in its dormant state was unable to direct it to priorities, allowing automated self-repair systems to benefit initially. The explosion several days later of the semi-distant volcanic caldera shook the Ark's surroundings. Some loose connectors moved home, and others were disconnected. Millimetre by millimetre, the Ark was returning to life.

 

The Ark's on board systems hovered slowly, booting up Teletran's basic systems. Teletran though was damaged. The higher reasoning functions would not be able to operate. The automated medical programs were intact and the small rover androids, idle for millennia started work on caring for those within the Ark.

A hatch opened in the rear of the Ark and a small rocket emerged and launched itself skywards. It achieved a low orbit and began recording what it saw, sending the information back to Teletran. Some objects looked suitable and were given more detailed inspections. There was now sufficient information to assemble some templates and download that into plasmic shells. One by one, the bodies within the hold were carried by the androids into a wall mounted chamber and after around a day would be returned to where they lay, their lines subtly, and not so subtly different from before. The process was slow and it world take a series such shocks through the surroundings over the next four local cycles before another semi-distant set of explosions and tremors caused the final stages of revival.

Deep within the bowels of the Ark, one of its charges was returning to life....

 

Basic sensors came on first, exploring its own shell. Core programming was checked then activated. System wide mechanical checks on minimal power settings gave a rough idea of system condition. A report was extrapolated from empirical data and the self-test results and forwarded to the CPU. Batteries checked out charged but the alternator had no other power sources. A critical parameter was met then exceeded and the main systems were brought on line. Banks of processing systems were brought online, intelligence index quickly building until another parameter was met, and the index started climbing exponentially as a simple computer achieved self-awareness. It's first thought, though conditioned, was not one built into any internal checklist. I AM SKYWARP!

Visual scanners flickered and quickly stabilised giving Skywarp a sense of his surroundings. Temperatures were high. Higher than Cybertronian norm, and much higher than vacuum. There was gravity, and it wasn't artificial. He was alive and he had achieved landfall somewhere. There was no light of any kind. Memory returned and images of the battle in space were quickly reviewed. Internal clock sought out any broadcasting clock, but there was none, so Skywarp had no idea how long he'd been off line.

There was no light of any kind in the room, but enough ambient heat to make infrared uncomfortable but possible. Immediately in front of him were the Autobots he had shot in his ferocious final stand. The memory brought a grin to the mechanical face.

Skywarp moved forward towards the desperately held barricade. He noticed the high and mighty Prowl still lying where he had shot him, at the second attempt. A moment of indignation overcame Skywarp and he kicked Prowl's midsection, hard. The Autobot gave no response that he had even felt it, leaving Skywarp vaguely dissatisfied.

Leaping the barricade the Decepticon hunted for evidence of its fellows, hopefully Starscream, Megatron or Shockwave. Rumble was his first discovery, just as inactive as the Autobots. The blocky shape of Soundwave he could see down the neighbouring aisle. Upon inspection Soundwave was in as much trouble as everyone else. Laserbeak was loaded in Soundwave's chest. Perhaps Laserbeak had run and hid in Soundwave in the final moments. Not exactly an un-typical example of Laserbeak cowardice.

Over the next few hours Skywarp located all of the Decepticons from the strike team, except Shockwave, in the immediate vicinity of the hold. All were dormant, and beyond Skywarp's abilities to reach. He'd also found a large amount of Autobots; more than Megatron had led them to believe would be on board. Instead of roughly even numerical odds there were approximately twice as many Autobots as Decepticons. Soundwave was the intelligence specialist for this mission. He would suffer Megatron's wrath if they ever come on line. Skywarp looked over Soundwave again. What was Laserbeak's status? Encased within Soundwave, Skywarp had over looked him.

Skywarp pried open Soundwave's torso to look over the compacted Laserbeak. Unlike the other, Laserbeak was nominal but deactivated. Activating Laserbeak would achieve little, other than the annoyance of Laserbeak for company, as he surely would be less help than Skywarp could himself provide. But if Laserbeak's activation could kick-start Soundwave...

Without access to Gunship Nemesis database Skywarp backtracked through his own activation sequence to make a guess at what to do. Did Laserbeak have enough stored power to activate the much larger Soundwave? After several hours of fierce concentration, Skywarp was ready to try. He paused. Worst case? There might be a surge powerful enough to permanently fry Laserbeak and brain damage Soundwave. Not a big loss in either case. Without any kind of diagnostic readout Skywarp wouldn't know if it had worked until Soundwave said something or moved.

After a short wait Skywarp shrugged and leaned in closer to inspect what damaged was done to Laserbeak when Soundwave sat up suddenly and howled. Jerkily the blue Decepticon clutched at its torso groping amongst the fresh cabling in his chest to remove the flat shape of the dormant Laserbeak. Skywarp pried it loose and Soundwave ripped the flat shape free. Skywarp wondered how the clinical Soundwave would respond, once able. He should have known.

 

"Report!" The voice, even for a Decepticon was flat and lifeless, completely without inflection. Skywarp explained what he knew, making sure to point out his own tactical success, to which Soundwave was totally unimpressed. Soundwave was not impressible, he just was. Skywarp suspected he was soon to be very busy. He would not be disappointed.

 

Buster had spent several hours driving the Jeep along roads, which, with each junction, got smaller and less well maintained. About a quarter of an hour ago tarmac had ended abruptly, and now the track was getting rougher and rougher, with still no sign of a fence or a closed gate to impede his progress anywhere. He guessed he must be on private land, but it was only a guess and the rocky ground had steadily increased until there was no track at all but mountain foothills.

The impression of a wide furrow, with a dry creek bed running down its centre, remained. Buster debated for a moment. The track, what remained of it, now ran parallel to the rocky outcropping he had pinpointed hours ago. A small forest covered the ground ahead of the outcrop, limiting the likely options. There were distant noises and the forest seemed to be moving in small areas. Buster reconsidered his previously charitable intentions of heading to the St. Helens disaster area and decided a mechanics apprentice wouldn't make much of a difference either way.

Buster dismounted from the Jeep and locked the hubs in the centre of both front wheels, engaging the four-wheel drive and steered off the road, heading up the wide creek bed. Night was falling by the time he reached the edge of the forest. He had seen no packs, but there was much noise coming from further in. Having wasted a day on curiosity, Buster grabbed his satchel, pocketed the keys and stuffed what junk food he had left from several gas stations along the way and headed inland. As he climbed uphill it began to sound like tree felling, which left Buster disappointed. A very innocuous explanation. He was on the point of giving up when he heard a series of high pitched whines and coloured light seemed to wash over parts of the trees.

Buster moved forward more cautiously now, moving past the commotion with the intention of coming into view from one side. There were sounds of heavy treads and some voices.

Buster looked on in amazement as two humanoid figures cleared a wide pathway through the forest, arguing in a language he could not understand. Both were approximately ten feet tall that Buster could tell, and were.... they looked like robots from a science-fiction film, and a cheap one at that. While basically human in shape, sharp angles stuck out at various points in their... armour? Could they be humans in some kind of battle armour?

One had his armour decked out on two shades of blue, light and dark, with his upper torso mostly dark blue with some golden highlights on each breast. His companion had the same lines, but black instead of dark blue, and a venomous red in place of the lighter blue. Protruding from their shoulder blades was a pair of chromed tubes, which looked very much like slung rifles.

Leaving the pair to continue to argue, Buster walked deeper and quickly came upon a cliff face that the newly created forest path finished. Sticking out of the base of the cliff was something very large, at least partially buried, and definitely metallic. 

A sound like a jet engine broke into Buster's reverie at this point and as he turned, a golden orange bird flashed past his vision. But it was not a bird. In the same way the two figures he'd seen before weren't human. It was a bird wearing the same kind of armour the other two had been in gold and block. Essentially flat in cross section with two sharp angular wings, two talons and a pair of engines mounted on top with chromed tubes projecting from the engine's air intakes, and a double-hinged neck. The armoured condor was roughly the size of an albatross. A very large albatross. Buster decided he didn't know how big an albatross was but this was bigger.

It descended rapidly and slowed until just above walking pace, certainly slower than it would take to fly aerodynamically un-powered and drifted into a recess in the cliff. Or wall. Or whatever the hell it was.

Armoured people, robot eagles. Cliffside base. The whole concept excited Buster, and as light decreased rapidly, he made his way forward towards where the eagle hand been. Around a curve in the rock appeared a passageway. If that was what you could call it. It was the sort of passageway suitable for a cathedral. Or the sort of passage used by very large armoured soldiers. Much larger than the two he had seen.

At this point Buster decided that perhaps he was getting in over his head. The budget to create weaponry like this was very serious indeed, and likely to be guarded well. A chill raced its way up Busters spine, also reminding him the sun had almost set, and without light he might not find his way back to the Wrangler. Buster looked down the passage, there was light coming from within. Where there was light there would be trouble. Turning away, he noticed heavy treads sounding from behind him. Forced to retreat from the voices Buster jogged further down the tunnel, looking for a hideaway. A passageway branched to the left and was shrouded in shadow. Buster ducked into the huge passageway and crouched down. After what seemed like an age, the two incongruously coloured armoured soldiers, passed by without further comment, from either of them.

Buster moved back to the corner and watched the two figures tread their way along a floor, which Buster realised, was smooth metal, not rock. He turned and looked back in the direction he had come in, but a figure was there now. The silhouette made it look like a big cat. A very big cat. He was sure Cougars didn't come that big. It prowled around briefly and Buster had the briefest glimpse of glowing yellow eyes. He looked along the passageway he had come. He moved along its featureless extent. Buster noticed a small pile of rubble on the floor ahead. When he reached the rubble he noticed it had came from a large crack in the wall. It was wide enough for Spike to climb and there was light at the top, only ten metres or so steeply inclined upwards. If there was light up there, there was a way out. A way out without damned oversize Cougars, Condors or troopers.

By the time Buster had climbed halfway up, it seemed more like fifteen metres and he didn't like looking down. He had also decided that it wasn't natural light ahead, because it had the slightly bluish look of artificial light. That and a quick check of his wristwatch told him it was well and truly night outside.

The view from the to of the rent was onto a room with three sides. A passageway looked like it led off to Busters left while ahead the wall was about twice his height. Three armoured suits lay untended on the floor, each of them larger than the two he had seen earlier, two of the larger than the third. The two larger ones looked very much alike and were very blocky, one red the other white. The smaller one was silver and more, jagged. The white one was nearest; prominent on the shoulder he could see was a large red cross.

The crack also came to a halt some ten feet above the floor. If he leapt down he would not be able to return to it. The red cross though was re-assuring. A medic or doctor would be more understanding of his predicament then a pair of grumbling soldiers. Buster could see there was a large clear panel high on the armoured suits chest, presumably to allow the pilot to see out. Reflections from the nearby light prevented Buster from confirming this.

Buster jumped down, still hoping to find a doctor in this deserted area. It seemed strange the armour would be left lying around like this, but perhaps it was easier to work on them like this. Indeed and access panel appeared to be open on the right side of the white suits flank. Buster, checking there was no one about walked over for a closer look. The mechanic in him suddenly interested in what these suits were made of.

Inside the panel it looked old. Surprisingly old. It was dirty and dusty and very intricate. The interior he could get at bristled with electronics. And what looked like a large pair of contacts gunged with dirt, or something. Buster plucked the ever-present rag from his jeans pocket and reached out to wipe the contacts clean.

 

With awareness came alarms. Once Ratchet became aware of who he was and what he could do, he lifted himself and looked around him. Ironhide and Camshaft were present. Their health telemetry redlined. If there was any energy left in either of them he couldn't tell. The telemetry though was approximate, based on Ratchets sensors only. They weren't broadcasting anything. The hasty field-dressing Ratchet had welded to Camshafts torso was gone, repaired more thoroughly and seamlessly. Looking twice he noticed Camshafts torso was more pronounced than it had been previously, while Ironhide's head sat taller on his shoulders and his torso seemed to be entirely different. Belatedly he noticed the same changes in himself. Otherwise, there was little Ratchet could do for them other than find them energon. Of Optimus Prime there was no sign. 

Voices drifted up from below in the hold proper and Ratchet moved towards the balcony edge with a jaunty rejoinder prepared to grab attention. The sound of laughter floated over the balcony lip. Laughter that froze Ratchet to his core. Megatron's laughter. Ratchet retuned his hearing to more accurately pick up the conversation.

"Oh this is delicious Starscream. What a pleasant way to awaken, to find your enemy unconscious and completely at your mercy. Soundwave, are all Decepticons accounted for?", Megatron was easily the happiest of figures, and the most confident.

"Negative. Shockwave unlocated. Analysis of Skywarp's systems recovery indicates Shockwave's presence. No further evidence of activity. Gunship Nemesis not in vicinity. Considerable signals activity, indicating presence of technology higher than on orbital scans."

"We have to find Nemesis if we are to get off this world. Starscream, check with Ravage inspecting this ships systems and make sure every Autobot on this ship is found, I want no miraculous survivors. Thundercracker go up to where we found Prime and retrieve the other bodies. I want to Prime to see what we do to his troops before we leave. Soundwave, find Shockwave and Nemesis. And determine the nature of this other technology source."

"Acknowledged." At this point with Decepticons distracted by duties, Ratchet risked exposing his head to see. There was little light, but Megatron could be seen standing before the body of Optimus Prime, arms crossed, looking down at his imprisoned foe. Starscream had already disappeared from view and Soundwave was moving towards the small egress hatchway beside the wrecked main hold bay doors. Thundercracker was moving towards Ratchet, but not looking in his direction. There was additional movement in the far reaches of the bay, but who or what could not be pinned down.

Thundercracker disappeared from sight, beneath the lip of the balcony. In seconds he would be up here. Ratchet looked around behind him, looking for options, making plans his medical based command experience gave him no background for. The large figure stopped when it sighted Buster.

 

What struck Thundercracker was how thin the air of euphoria had been, and how bleak the situation was beyond the short term. The large blue Decepticon did not share his fellow's enthusiasm for their current situation. Megatron positively burned with excitement at having these Autobots so completely at his mercy. His raid commander Starscream too could not keep from smiling and even cackling on occasion. Thundercracker felt out of place. All he had was questions. How were they going to return to Cybertron? The Ark would plainly never fly again and it was a far sturdier vessel than the absent Nemesis. Where was Nemesis? And Shockwave too for that matter. And why had the rest of the Seekers missed the flight?

Starscream and Cyclonus had fought hard to get the group aboard the Nemesis, when casualties had forced a non-mission status rating on the unit just prior to departure. The way the two had been speaking had more than indicated they were up to some intrigue. Starscream had not let him in on the agenda however, and Skywarp was no help. The black Seeker was caught up in the euphoria that spread from Megatron down, and in his own role in their revival from slumber. And Skywarp wasn't the smartest warrior to emerge from the template mould.

Right up until departure Starscream had insisted more Seekers were coming, despite Thundercracker knowing that only Cyclonus was not on the wounded list. Dirge, Ramjet and Thrust were relatively lightly injured, and could have joined the trip but Scourge and Sunstorm were incapacitated short term. Thundercracker had also remembered the look on Thrusts face the last time he had seen him, and it was a face smugly telling Thundercracker that I know something that you don't. There had been no sign of Cyclonus, or Thrust or any of the others when the Ark left orbit and blasted past the moon where the Nemesis has been surreptitiously moored.

Starscream had not seemed that concerned and certainly much less concerned than Megatron by the absentees, but whatever Starscream was planning, he hoped he would not have to choose between Starscream and Megatron. Making the wrong choice would be exceedingly painful. If Starscream wanted to rely on Thundercracker's loyalty he had better confide soon.

The elevator doors hissed open and Thundercracker turned right to head towards the gallery. Two grey legs, and the head of Ironhide were in view through the entrance. As was something moving. It looked like a miniature Autobot. However it was plainly not made of skin. It looked ugly and squashable. Was this a local life form? It appeared to be wearing flimsy armour, and quick look at high magnification made it look manufactured. And suddenly Thundercracker was afraid. Afraid of this unarmed tiny little soft creature.

Thundercracker had been on long-range sensors when Nemesis had emerged from hyperspace. The world below them had been totally primitive. There was no industry and no signals intelligence and the dominant life forms appeared to be huge lizards, an evolutionary blind alley. Either this creature was an alien itself or it had evolved here, to the point of industrialisation. The point slammed home with enough force that Thundercracker near froze on the spot while he considered the implications.

How long have I been unconscious?

There was a sudden pain in Thundercracker's back and something pulled back on his neck. Something pressed his right wing back against his body and he grasped at the spindly-flanged arm across his throat, trying to pry it loose. There was a sudden pain in the side of his head and a murmured voice.

"I'm sorry Thundercracker."

 

Thundercracker lay on the floor before Ratchet with a light scalpel sticking from the right side of his head, still humming softly. The wound leaked a little hydraulic fluid but was a relatively minor injury, just debilitating. It still left the medic wondering what it would take for this war to end. The small fleshy thing was staring fixatedly at Thundercracker's head. Had it no concept of the danger it was in? Ratchet bent over Thundercracker and pried one of his arm-mounted cannons loose. Quickly plugging in a cable Ratchet carefully inserted some of his intelligence into the cannon, trying to find a way past security systems that would not let him fire the weapon. He also grabbed Camshafts blaster and one of Camshafts mortar rockets. Embedded in Camshafts launcher, the rocket would not easily release. Using his small medical tools he started to pry the rocket loose.

The translation systems were starting to make sense of the creature's speech, although it was using a highly complicated dialect, increasing the difficulty of translation, but also indicating a reasonable level of cultural development. Which gave Ratchet some hope of compatible technologies and possibly a way home.

He heard Megatron's voice below and stopped his thought processes; he was getting a long way ahead of himself. Ratchet reviewed the recording at Megatron's voice and replayed.

"Soundwave, commence reviving Prime. I want him to watch as we destroy his followers."

It certainly got Ratchets attention. What could he do to try and rescue Prime, but at the same time, ensure at least one member of this expedition went on? If he sacrificed himself in a failed rescue attempt it did not gain the Autobots anything. If worst came, he would have to watch the executions. But there had to be another option.

Optimus Prime's health telemetry feed spiked and settled erratically. The majority of his sensors were offline, disconnected along with the rest of his body. But the personality and intellect were unimpaired according to the telemetry feed. Ratchet ran down the list of options, not just for Prime but also for any of the Autobots in the vicinity.

And suddenly Ratchets decision was made when another telemetry feed sparked stutteringly into life. His life too would be suddenly in danger the moment he started moving as he was in full view of half the Decepticons present. It was Prowl.

 

"So Prime, awaiting the moment your body obeys thoughts? That moment will not be forthcoming. Your motor functions have been disconnected." Optimus immediately gave up any pretence and the blue eyes burned once more.

"What do you want from me Megatron?"

"Entertainment Prime, nothing more. I am hoping you will be so. Morale has decayed here on this frontier world. My troops need some motivation. Who first Starscream? That annoying bodyguard of his, Ironhide? The know-it-all Prowl?"

"Jazz. I am so sick of his voice and his turning up suddenly out of nowhere," there was glee in Starscream's voice, and a look of excitement on his face that made Optimus Prime sick to the internals that he could not feel.

"Jazz. Skywarp fetch Jazz for Prime here, they may have some touching last words for each other." Megatron folded his arms and stared down at his foe of so many years, relaxing at last with the conflict finally over. Optimus returned his gaze, defiant, but not trusting anything to voice as he weighed options, searching for some bargaining tool to save Jazz' life. To save the lives of all aboard The Ark. He was cut-off from his fellows and there was no one in sight not longing for his execution. Megatron was plainly identifiable, but he looked different. Starscream even more so. The Decepticons had been templated.

The dark figure of he presumed to be Skywarp appeared in his peripheral vision carrying uncomfortably over his shoulder a white figure he did not recognise as Jazz until his face came into view. So the Autobots had been templated too. How long would that take?

"Should we try to revive Jazz first? Some last famous wisecrack?" suggested Starscream, looking like he was itching to hold Jazz life against his trigger.

"Megatron. You have been templated," said Prime.

"Yes, your vessel appears to have been quite competent in that regard," said Megatron. He lifted his arm with the cannon mounted, clearly pleased with the lines.

"If we were all templated, how long have we been here? And what were we templated from?" This question got through and Megatron paused.

"That matters not Prime. We can not have been gone long, else a rescue party would have been sent."

"Are the rabble you left behind that loyal to you? Did you even get a distress call away when your ship crashed?"

"Nemesis did not crash," said Megatron, stretching the absence of evidence to breaking point. "Shockwave will be here to collect us shortly, leaving us enough time for some... recreation."

 

Prowls vision was pixelated. Power supply was severely compromised. He should be off-line, but was not. Self-repair systems had pushed him towards awareness, but it seemed an awareness of definition only. His hands moved slowly, there was movement to his left as something white beside him shifted and vanished. Vision cleared momentarily and he suddenly identified Jazz being carried over the shoulder of a figure he couldn't recognise and his vision pixelated again. Audio sensors cleared and Megatron's voice clearly rang through the background noise and static. Prowls enquiring hands closed around something immediately familiar and Prowl subconsciously checked over his rifle and slowly started to roll over prone to bring the rifle to bear.

 

Skywarp unceremoniously dumped Jazz in a heap at Megatron's feet.

"He's not reviving. Power must be too low." Skywarp appeared to shrug, a manoeuvre he was having difficulties with since he acquired a pair of long air intakes jutting from his shoulders, then stepped back as Megatron brought his cannon around to bear on the head of the comatose Autobot.

 

Pain wracked suddenly through Prowls body, causing a brief convulsion, which knocked against the rattling components of the makeshift barricade. Nearest to the barricade was Frenzy, who turned suddenly, his blaster suddenly outstretched around his forearm, moving towards the sound. Soundwave, picking up a feed from Frenzy tensed.

"Megatron, movement," called the flat inflectionless voice of the communicator. Megatron, and the majority of the Decepticons heads present snapped around looking for the source of danger, one by one snapping on to Frenzy, although Starscream remained fixated on Optimus Prime and Jazz. Frenzy's run suddenly halted and he fell backwards having taken one of Prowls acid darts in the chest, with a laser blast following the dart to injure the Decepticons compromised armour. Gun arms came up but only a few sought cover. It was only one Autobot.

 

Ratchet watched in dismay as Prowl betrayed his position and blasted Frenzy to the floor. He concentrated momentarily and sent an urgent message to all Autobots present. Using the emergency medical protocols he had access to, Ratchet commanded all Autobots to revive from their slumber. He was aware that most would either be unable to respond, or would revive much like Prowl and be as much a liability as a help. But any additional guns could make the difference and save the lives of all here. The medic held no illusions about what would happen if he were unable to drive off the Decepticons in this moment. Ratchet then bashed the rocket he had taken from Camshaft on its end, stood up the balcony and hurled the rocket like a grenade down into the middle of the cluster of the Decepticons and whispered an apology to himself for any hurt he may cause Optimus or Jazz. The rocket landed at Rumbles feet as fire started to track in at Prowl, and exploded. The small Decepticon was blasted off his feet, taking the brunt of the blow and was hurled against Skywarp and knocked him off his feet. Ratchet, with a free hand now, had scooped up Camshafts blaster, and holding his own weapon in his other hand, fired down at the Decepticons, picking out Megatron first, before tracking in on Starscream who looked as though he might blast the two Autobots at his feet. Ratchet started to receive active data feeds, and at least two were functional.

"All Autobots, fire fight in the hold, repel boarders urgent."

 

"Multiple weapon signatures, at least three Autobots firing," called Soundwave above the sudden din. Soundwave noticed two weapons firing from the balcony were not well spaced, and started to speculate over whether their was only one Autobot in the balcony. Moving into cover from the barricade, Soundwave tracked his concussion blaster in between the weapons firing downwards and fired. Both weapons stopped firing.

"Megatron, suspect one Autobot in balcony position using two weapons."

"Only one?" pondered Megatron, before tracking his cannon towards the savaged structure above him. There was an explosion and Soundwave staggered backwards against Megatron, spoiling his aim. The missile had come from an unexpected direction.

"Third axis of attack," belatedly reported Soundwave. The Decepticons were pinned down and quickly surrounded. Even if Autobots numbers were as slim as Soundwave had speculated they were pinned down and horribly exposed. His mind raged against the embarrassment of retreating, and from such a position of apparent superiority, but increasingly as fire from another position appeared, it was the only option.

"Decepticons, fall back towards bay doors and retreat."

"NO!" screamed Starscream. The grey flight commander was standing in the open, in a rare moment of courage, or perhaps just denial, firing null rays with near abandonment at anything that moved, even hitting Ravage as he was moving stealthily towards the new threat coming from the back of the hold. Skywarp had retreated towards the antechamber exit, finally putting down the firing coming from the barricade as he did so. While carrying Rumble under one arm. As Soundwave reached Skywarp's position he tossed Rumble towards Soundwave who activated Rumbles transformation and tucked the small tablet away in his chest cavity. Frenzy was mobile again and retreating towards the entrance while Laserbeak was already gone outside.

"Where is Thundercracker?" yelled Skywarp. This finally got Starscream's attention and he broke off his random firing and noticed he was being left behind. Snarling with rage he transformed suddenly and blasted his way outbound just as a small red figure emerged into view and attempted to track Starscream with laser fire and failed. The only Decepticon left in the hold now was Buzzsaw and the small golden avian dived downwards and grabbed some dark object in his talons as he finally retreated. The small red figure of Cliffjumper emerged into the open and tried to bring down the small figure, failing to hear Ratchets urgent cry as he did so. Just as Buzzsaw cleared the opening to follow Megatron out of the hold airlock Cliffjumper scored a hit and Buzzsaw dropped the object.

 

"Frag! Almost nailed the critter," cursed a surprisingly active Cliffjumper. Ratchet was yelling.

"Get that object!"

"Why?" asked the exasperated Cliffjumper.

"It is Prime's head!"

 

The moment firing had started Buster turned tail and ran. There was such a thing as curiosity but these mechanical behemoths were packing more firepower than he could comprehend, and without any form of defence or protection, this was no place to be. He reached the entrance passageway he had come in before the one group had started retreating and raced outside to where he had left his Jeep. Just as he reached the car, an armoured eagle burst out of the passage behind him. Buster waited as the various armoured figures stormed out behind him and tried be as inconspicuous as possible sheltering behind his Jeep. Finally a gold eagle blasted outside, chased by movie style weapons fire and it dropped something it was holding in its talons, which bounced several times directly towards the Jeep. Suddenly panicked Buster ran, fearing some bomb or other was being thrown at him.

The object struck the Jeep with a thump, but nothing further happened. Buster moved quickly back to the Jeep, and prayed to a god he believed only in the abstract, that it would start first time. The Cherokee gave no trouble and Buster was away, back along the track back towards the interstate.


	6. Investigations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The United States Air Force makes contact with extra-terrestials. Huge, metallic, armoured, heavily armed, robotic extra-terrestials.

The air was cool, dry and odourless. The room was sterile, devoid of any life and the only movement of air came when a door opened and someone passed through, eddying the flow as the two rooms that now had access to each other tried to equalise. There was no sun, no windows and no natural light of any kind. Just a set of faintly bluish fluorescent tubes at regular intervals above the large polished wood conference table. Unlike most such tables in the building, the polish was not millimetres thick, but just enough to be functional. At each end of the table were large digital screens one dormant, the other, behind the tables only occupant, was set on a default screen displaying a map of the globe and was colour coded indicators flickered periodically across the screen displaying limited amounts of information; threat warnings and unit readiness of various military commands. An Army officer sat at the table. The tall figure had folded himself into one of the conference chairs. Full of craggy, almost cracked facial features from years spent in the field, squinting into sunsets, baking under desert suns, under layers of camouflage paint. Hair was typically closely cropped military cut with a salt and pepper look of advancing years on what was once jet black. A thin face with sunken eyes and a slightly oversized thin nose, 'Hawk' had been a natural nickname for Brigadier General Perkele A. Stewart as an upcoming officer, but as a flag officer, all his peers were rivals for vacant Major General positions and such friendly familiarity was scarce. Even more so in Stewarts position which seemed to operate almost outside the direct chain of command. In his late 40's now, Stewart has spent most of his career in infantry and later mechanised infantry after a slightly troubling knee injury, holding a variety of operations and command positions, during the height of the institutionalised government led paranoia of the Cold War. As he progressed up the ranks both he and his commanders noticed a talent for intelligence which had brought him increasingly challenging assignments including occasional Special Forces assignments. While an aggravation of the knee injury had caused him to fail Ranger qualification, he had served with light infantry and in paratroops as well as Delta Force and the Marine Corps Green Berets on exchange. The combination of Special Forces and intelligence assignments had led to his present billet as commander of Special Investigations Unit. The word 'Special' means many things in military parlance. Apart from elite fighting groups, 'Special' usually means nuclear weapons. The name gave Stewart's group the air of someone with the sufficient authority to investigate nuclear forces, not something lightly given, but in this case it did not mean nuclear weapons. The assumption, if made did add an air of menace to his team that he did nothing to dispel.

The door opened and a blue uniformed US Air Force Lieutenant Colonel entered the conference room, a leather briefing satchel tucked under one arm.

"What does Air Intelligence have for us this week Colonel?"

"Thermal blooms sir," said Colonel Roberts from the Air Force Air Intelligence Agency. Stewart decided if Roberts resented giving Air Force gathered intelligence to someone from another branch of service, he hid it well. The group, attached to the Eighth Air Force, gathered intelligence for senior Air Force staff on items relevant to the security of the USAF and potential airborne threats to US forces. Roberts usually handled briefings to senior staff and had been asked to restate a portion of his most recent briefing to General Stewart as a courtesy.

"You have my attention Colonel, please continue. And give me the grand tour, don't assume I may know something you take for granted."

"Sir. Thermal blooms on infra red satellite scans can usually mean anything, but above a certain size possibilities narrows considerably. Ballistic missile launches are quite distinctive from other missile launches for example, although we have to wait for trajectory to tell the difference between a ballistic missile and a space shot."

"This was a thermal bloom that appeared in Washington state last Thursday in the Cascade Ranges." Roberts handed Stewart a glossy photo image.

"We have no facilities in that area? Launch silos, weapons facilities, energy producing sites?"

"No sir. The area was thought too volatile for development since the war. Its not all that far from Mount Saint Helens." It had been over four years since a volcano dormant for over a century and thought to be extinct has exploded suddenly and violently claiming 66 lives in the ensuing disaster.

"Its not related to the volcano in anyway? A new geothermal plume?"

"No sir. Too hot for anything other than molten lava. This is not the first time such phenomena have been discovered at this location. Back in 1980 during the big Saint Helens eruption this occurred." Roberts passed over another glossy print, with another thermal bloom on it. "After re-analysis of the 1980 image it would appear that it was a launch of some kind, but a small one, probably non-military in nature."

"Rocket scientists?"

"Perhaps. It's impossible to be sure without examining the vehicle. The second one... seems to be out gassing of some kind, but its not volcanic in nature, and it appears to be radioactive, slightly."

"Slightly?"

"Not enough to be harmful to the few local residents."

"NEST team analysis?"

"This information has not been released to the Atomic Energy Commission."

"Why not?"

"Because of this." Roberts handed over a third image. Stewart was slow to pick up the significance. There were two fighters, undoubtedly F-15s flying away from the site in question, along with what appeared to be humanoid figures, lying prone with arms outstretched, as if flying like comic book superheroes.

"Analysis?"

"No-one is willing to sign off on anything, speculation has been wild, but there were no F-15s operating in the area. The figures, compared to the F-15s appear to be roughly 10-15 metres long for the larger ones."

"Your opinion?"

"Are we developing some kind of bipedal armour system?"

"You know I can't answer that Colonel." Stewart emphasised the difference in rank between the two to imply he knew more than he was letting on, and to discourage the Air Force officer from following along that line of investigation. Which was standard operating procedure, but there were real reasons for it in this instance.

Stewart was alarmed because he didn't know what they were. It would be his job to find out.

"Were we able to track them at all?"

"They went east briefly but as they got closer to population centres they veered away and disappeared into Nevada somewhere."

Nevada. That would make things tricky. The gambling state was riddled with secret and very secret Air Force and Army facilities. Getting the imagery he wanted would take too long because of security classiications, and because of a reluctance to use SIUs special powers. Stewart thanked Roberts who left quickly. The moment Roberts had left, the other doors opened and US Army officers stepped into the room and the display behind Stewart sprang into detailed activity.

"Captain, I need to get a line into the Chief of Staff."

"Sir." One of the officers picked up a handset and dialled a number. After a few words the Army Captain punched a button on the phone and pointed to another handset nearby Stewart's seat.

Stewart's second-in-command, Colonel Bourne started leafing through the imagery Roberts had left for the General.

"ET's sir?"

"Certainly looks like it," said Stewart firmly. He had always expected this would happen someday, just he hoped not while he was alive. What ever they were, once the public was aware they existed, everything would change. "Problem is selling it to the Joint Chiefs. Once we do then they have to face up to having beings this powerful running around in our borders with no leash and an unknown agenda. What I fear most at this point Colonel is an over-reaction out of fear. This is worse than terrorism, because we can at least expect terrorists to live down to our expectations of them."

"Maybe they are friendly?"

"If they aren't and we can't defeat them quickly while they are still in the desert, then life on this planet is going to change. It's not like we can disguise them. They're too damn big."

"General Pickett's office," said a voice issuing from a speaker somewhere in the room.

"General Stewart, SIU, urgent communication for General Pickett."

"General Pickett is in conference at the moment."

"Put me through this is important."

"Hold sir." There was a pause. A different voice came on the line.

"Stokell." Major General Stokell was Pickett's senior aide. A two star General and yet an assistant in role. It was however a prestige position and attracted General staff whom still held career ambitions at this rank. His major role was filtering the vast quantity of information which was channelled towards the Joint Chief Chairman which was not funneled through the individual Chiefs. Stokell was also a former comrade from infantry days.

"Paul, Perkele at SIU." He could picture a hint of a smile on the face of the heavy set man on the other end of the phone.

"Hawk, what can I do for you?" There was no smile in Stokell's voice. It was the sound of a man under pressure.

"Something I need to know going on?" There was a long pause. There was definately bustling activity in the background. Wherever Stokell was, he wasn't at his desk.

"Look Hawk, can you state your piece, then I can reply meaningfully."

"After reviewing some imagery received from Air Intelligence via NORAD I believe we may be issuing a Fallen Angel alert." There was another long pause.

"I think you need to speak to the man. Be aware he's in briefing at the moment at the Situation Room at the moment with POTUS, Hodges, de Cesaris, Fury, Pentti and the Joint Chiefs. I'll patch you over." With a click there was silence. One thing about the Pentagon's phone system, was no on hold music to annoy the crap out of anyone waiting. It would certainly be a star studded audience listening in on the other end. Alain Pentti was the Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, George Fury the Secretary of Defence, Michaela de Cesaris was the Presidents National Security Advisor, and Darrell Hodges the Presidents Chief of Staff. And POTUS was the abbreviation for President Of The United States.

"Pickett."

"Sir this is Brigadier General Stewart, SIU."

"Yes General?" Stewart decided some decorum was in order and picked up the nearest handset, punching a button as he did so, cutting out the background noises from his own sit room.

"I believe we have a Fallen Angel sir."

"You are sure about this General? I need to know because I think you can contribute to a situation here in the White House Sit-room." Stewart took a deep breath. Here was the moment of his career. He had been entrusted with a agency that acted as the axe which breaks open the glass seal over the emergency alarm, and he was being asked to smash it in front of the President. Based on this slim evidence, this was a matter for international concern. This was not a time for hesitation. Stewart decided he was ready to put himself into the flames.

"I do sir." There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line before sound quality changed dramatically and background noise increased.

"Mister President I have Brigadier General Stewart of the Army Special Investigations Unit on speaker phone now. Go ahead General." Stewart had never had this sort of attention from senior command before, but a commander was a commander.

"Sir. Mister President, I have strong reason to believe we have a Fallen Angel situation in progress somewhere near the Pacific North West." There was a small pause. Stewarts thoughts raced. Self-doubt, ever the real enemy of a military officer suddenly plagued him. Were they laughing at me? Had one of the crackpot agencies stuck its head up at the wrong moment only to be bitten off by PG Robinson?

"I do trust you are going to explain what that is son, and why it is relevant to our current situation?"

 

"How much longer will we wait here?" Starscream was not the most patient Decepticon ever to emerge from template. Megatron targeted Starscream with a stare, but said nothing. Starscream's impatience wilted away under Megatron’s gaze.

"Had you fielded a full squadron as requested our situation would be different Starscream. I would not test my patience further."

The band of Decepticons had gathered in a lonely spot in a sandy region near devoid of the fluids that covered so much of this planet. There was no cover for miles, but visibility was excellent. Nothing could approach them or even monitor them without being spotted. Megatron was almost daring, and in fact hoping the Autobots would pursue. However Megatron suspected the weaklings were tending their wounds and repairing Optimus Prime, ever fearful to take any initiative without him.

"Where is Thundercracker? Did we abandon him to a band of six Autobots?" Starscream would not let up. The intelligence to be a true leader was not present in Starscream. A useful tactical commander, he would never understand either strategy, or even his own limitations. And he was uniquely annoying. "Soundwave, just how many Autobots were there?"

"Soundwave is busy, ignore that command." Soundwave was motionless, using all his run time to try and translate some of the electronic garble flying around in the airwaves. Megatron moved over to Starscream. To his credit Starscream did not back off. A lesson was in order though. He grabbed Starscream roughly by the neck with his right gauntlet and hefted him off the ground, while thrusting the huge cannon into the whining aviators face.

"Starscream I am warning you, do not question my commands. Not now, not ever." Staring down the barrel Megatron was sure Starscream would see the activator crystals glowing. Sure enough the grey and red Decepticon started squirming.

"Megatron, I..."

"ENOUGH!" Megatron roared directly into Starscream face and fired, shifting aim at the last moment away from Starscream and picking Laserbeak out of the sky behind Starscream. The small red avian fell from the sky. Megatron dropped his gun arm away and leaned in closer, lowering the volume of his voice.

"Laserbeak let me down, running from battle, precipitating our withdrawal through his own cowardice. He will either learn courage, or learn the consequence of not being courageous. If Laserbeak does what I ask him because he is more afraid of me than the Autobots, then that suits my purpose. I do hope you understand Starscream." Megatron released his hold on Starscream. Starscream gingerly rubbed his face plate and a singe on the side of his air intake scoop, his features turning thoughtful the moment Megatron turned towards Soundwave.

"Soundwave, what progress?"

"Insufficient usable data available Megatron. Data is encrypted in addition to translation issues. We need to capture an alien to assist or capture relevant language learning documentation."

"Analysis of technology? Are they a threat to us?"

"Technology is comparatively primitive. Numerically vastly superior. We could be overcome. Weapons not in evidence. Underground facilities in vicinity. Ambient radioactivity suggests nuclear technology."

"Are they a space faring race?"

"Low probability. No orbiting facilities detected larger than communications relays. Hold." There was a pause. "Approaching vehicles. Airborne. Direct vector to this position. High probability hostile. Ravage, defensive posture."

The black Panther like Decepticon, which had not been comfortable in the exposed surroundings and had been hiding in Soundwaves shadow sprang up, and moved into an open space, spread its four legs, elevated its feline like head while a pair of missile launchers on its flanks followed Ravages head as it traversed the sky searching for the approaching objects. Ravage tensed and made a low growl. It had the targets locked.

"Hold your fire. I want to see if they are a threat to us. Decepticons, disperse. Starscream, Skywarp, Buzzsaw, prepare to intercept. And Starscream." Starscream paused in getting ready to take flight and turned towards Megatron. "Do not kill these creatures unless you have to. It may be possible to turn these aliens against the Autobots. Caution is better served until we gather more data."

"Yes Megatron," acknowledged Starscream and moved over to where Skywarp had been look for possible take off and landing sites. "Skywarp, a real leader is not cautious, a real leader is bold. The day may yet come when the Decepticons may need more boldness than Megatron is prepared to offer." Skywarp looked sideways at Starscream with a look on his face that seemed to suggest Starscream had given him rather too much to think about. Starscream had himself much to think about. His glorious squadron of Seekers had been reduced to a single foot soldier. And Skywarp too. At least while Thundercracker could not make a decision if a vibroaxe was suspended over his head at least they could hold a conversation and understand commands. Skywarp was a challenge to lead at times. The two aerial warriors stood poised, alongside their smaller colleague, ready for Megatrons command.

 

"Still no response sir."

"Mister President I see no alternative, those vehicles are in a very sensitive military location."

"Launch commit then General." The voice, delivered in an only slightly snappy New England accent that was instantly familiar, loved and hated in equal parts globally, it was unquestionably President Patrick G. Robinson. "You were saying about a fouled angel?" Stewart knew that President Robinson had not forgotten the phrase Fallen Angel but was affecting an air of superiority which was only slightly forced.

"Sir this is an extremely sensitive and delicate subject..."

"Everyone here is extremely sensitive and delicate."

"Yes Mister President. I have reason to believe your situation involves Extra-Terrestrials. I would urge you to recall the fighters sir."

"An interesting hypothesis General, tell me about your theory."

"Mister President, have you received a collection of images from NORAD?"

"I have them here Mister President," said an unfamiliar female voice.

"Why haven't I seen them Ms de Cesaris?" That made the new voice Michaela de Cesaris, the National Security Advisor, the Presidents senior advisor on security matters, more trusted than General Pickett.

"They were considered inflammatory and unconfirmed," said de Cesaris, sounding uncomfortable, in so far the phone system could translate her vocal inflections.

"Sir could you please abort the mission? The pilots are likely to be badly overmatched," continued Stewart.

"As the General said it's a sensitive location." The President was backing his Joint Chiefs Chairman. This was very dangerous territory for a junior flag officer to counter the opinion of his chief.

"Why not send a ground unit? Its easier to negotiate with a tank than a strike fighter." Another unfamiliar female voice asked.

"She does have a point General," Robinson added curiosly.

"It comes down to proximity of units. The nearest ground unit is several hours away. The delay is not acceptable." General Pickett's voice brooked no argument, and certainly not from junior officers.

"I have these photos; they look like F-15s to me."

"Mister President, look at what they appear to be escorting." There was a pause while all considered the extremely large figures in super hero flying pose.

"Does anyone have an alternative hypothesis?" asked President Robinson.

"It could be a locally developed bipedal weapons platform. Aren't the Japanese looking at the technology?" This voice Stewart didn't recognise. There was no further comment.

"Sir the fighters can see the targets." This was a background voice, only barely heard. It frustrated Stewart to be on the end of the phone like this. The large wall panel suddenly reconfigured and a data feed was patched into the map portion, which had zoomed in on a deserted part of Nevada, too close to the Air Forces Groom Lake and other unnamed secret facilities nearby to give the blue sky boys comfort. A red light flashed on a web cam mounted to the PC monitor by the phone which had risen out of the conference table. The White House Situation Room could now see him, but he couldn't see them.

"Captain, patch me a direct feed from the fighters," asked Stewart to his nearest aide.

"Almost there sir." A darkened quarter of the screen came to life plotting a group of unknowns and an approaching pair of F-15 Eagles. There was no unit designation which suggested the planes came from the Groom Lake facility where few items within are even allowed to be admitted that they exist.

"What the..," a static filled voice trailed off.

 

Major Steve Ashby could sympathise with the voice in his ear. A ten year veteran flying F-15 Eagles, interceptors and strike fighters both, this was something new. "Watch your interphone, Two. Targets appear to be building sized humanoids. Attack authority confirm." Ashby's final sentence was a question as much as a statement. Behind Ashby's admonishment of his wingman was his own concern, so much so he offered his commanders an additional opportunity to abort the attack. No countermand was forthcoming and suddenly it was time.

"Attack confirmed. Mavericks armed. Fox Three. Fox Three." The noise of the missiles launching thundered and reverberated through the airframe.

"Two, Fox Three, Fox Three."

 

"Low powered laser firing. Possible targeting system. Missiles launched. Megatron and Soundwave targeted" Soundwave had his concussion blaster out but was using his shoulder mounted missile launcher and fired four small missiles that raced out to greet the incoming missiles. There were four explosions as Soundwaves missiles triggered on proximity sensors, igniting the solid rocket fuel within the incoming Mavericks. The two aircraft screamed overhead racing away from the Decepticons.

"Starscream, intercept," said Megatron. Starscream leapt into the air, Skywarp moments behind and both ignited engines in their legs, thrusting them skywards. Starscreams head hinged forward toward his chest. His arms rotated backwards into a cavity that appeared as a nosecone appeared from Starscreams back and formed into a nose and cockpit structure ahead of the long shoulder projections Starscream had acquired after being templated by the Autobot vessel. Wings and aerilons rotated and tucked flush with Starscreams torso and legs which straightened and shortened. Where once a building sized robot had been, now thrusting skywards, was a grey and red aircraft, its shape, size and form mimicking the F-15 Eagles attacking the Decepticons. Beside him, copied in black was another imitation F-15 as Skywarp followed the lead of his squadron commander.

"And Starscream, leave both alive, and bring one back here for interrogation." Starscream burned with the desire to slaughter the strange flying creatures, and now would be forced to change strategy.

"Starscream, be advised. Flying devices are just vehicles. Operator is in forward part of machine and will be made of different materials to rest of craft." Soundwave's analysis grated, sounding as much an instruction as advice. Starscream liked to run his squadron his way. Although, Skywarp and the presence of Soundwave's minions Buzzsaw and Laserbeak hardly constituted a squadron. On Cybertron, as long as he got results, Starscream had complete autonomy in running his squad. Already he was resenting the close involvement Megatron was having. His plans however had called for him to be close to Megatron, and Megatron had never before been so isolated from his support structure. Starscream would have to bide his time, and wait for the opportunity. Starscream stood on his thrusters, rapidly chasing down the two aircraft.

 

Ashby led his wingman down towards the desert floor once passing over the target when the targeting radar notice two of the ground targets were accelerating rapidly but not directly towards them.

"Bronco lead you have picked up pursuit. Two bogeys at angels five and climbing.... no descending now," the semi-distant voice of his controller aboard the E-3 Sentry that had picked them up and was acting as their eyes and ears. OK, they climbed to get a speed advantage; they would probably be going for a strafing pass.

"Two you stay right on my rudder." Ashby's wingman just clicked his microphone button twice to acknowledge, not trusting his voice to speak. Ashby tightened his turn unaware the Decepticons triggered a brief burst of cannon fire at that moment. The turn had saved him for the moment, but Decepticons do not fly like aircraft.

"I'm hit, EJECT! EJECT!" suddenly Ashby's wingman was punching through the canopy of his Eagle and climbing into the sky on his ejector seats rocket, just as the Eagle itself dissolved into a ball of fire. His pursuit paid no attention and continued to close. Ashby dived to the desert floor and pushed the throttles, heading for the hills. He had gotten a look at the bogeys, they were Eagles pursuing him. Why would an F-15 shoot up another F-15? It made no sense.

Suddenly, much faster than they should have been the two F-15s were on each side of him. He looked left, that F-15 was black with silver and mauve highlights and a huge purple symbol on the wing. A black Eagle? Then Ashby noticed the cockpit was empty. There was no pilot! He looked right to the other F-15, and reality slid to a screeching halt.

An enormous arm had emerged from the fuselage the grey F-15, ending in a huge blue gauntlet, reaching for his fighter. The rest of the grey eagle was unfolding before his eyes. When a gigantic black helmeted head emerged with two glowing yellow eyes, Ashby panicked and grabbed his overhead ejection handles without saying a word just as the great blue gauntlet grabbed and crushed his right wing. Then the huge push exploded underneath him pushing him harshly clear of the nightmare of the unfolding F-15 and away from his now dying F-15, which was tossed aside by the behemoth like a toy. His parachute burst open somewhere above him and suddenly his fall had become a blustery float towards the ground, away from the two strangely painted fighters, which looked like F-15s again. No arms or heads. Ashby started to doubt himself. Had he imagined it all?

Something was flying towards him. The object grew in size and glinted with an orange tint. By the time he realised it wasn't an aircraft and was smaller, it was almost on him, and flying directly towards his chute. The black and gold... bird? It was far too large to be a bird, wasn't it? Grabbed the chute and with a jerk Ashby and his ejection seat, dragged unceremoniously across the sky. The buffeting was incredible and the first bashing against his head rest caused him the see stars. Ashby raised his hands to his face and tried the claw away his oxygen mask, succeeding just as the first wave of bilious vomit climbed up his throat. Black crowded in at the edges and one more thump against the headrest and the blackness reached out to claim him.

 

"Bronco lead, Bronco two, please respond," the voice of the air controller aboard the E-3 Sentry continued to repeat the same message. "Bronco lead, Bronco two please respond." Stewart had cringed when Bronco two had screamed the ejection litany. Bronco lead had not said another thing. Stewart placed a hand over his receiver and turned towards one of his aides.

"Captain, continue to monitor this frequency please in case there is a response." Background noise started to filter through on the earphone of the receiver.

"General Stewart, I would like to hear your thoughts at this time." It was the unmistakable tones of President Robinson.

"Mister President, there is a protocol for this, which I am not aware has ever been used. Aggressive monitoring sir. We keep close tabs on them for the moment, close enough that it is obvious to them," for the moment Stewart was going to skirt around using the words 'aliens' or 'extra-terrestrials' or anything similar. Hollywood had done too good a job of creating an unrealistic aura for the concept. "We would also ask to be lead agency in continuing agency in all facets of this situation."

"This is an Air Force operation on Air Force facilities with Air Force casualties. The Air Force will..."

"General Alexander, please." Pickett's voice reached out to quell the sudden outburst from the Air Force Chief of Staff. "General Stewart's agency has expertise the Air Force does not have to hand."

"I am sure General Stewart won't mind co-operating fully with the Air Force in the interests of all." This was the softer tones of the President.

"Yes Sir," responded Stewart. "There are of course wider issues. These beings are rather large and not easily concealed. There are those who would advocate a nuclear solution. Do we know if such weapons will incapacitate them, and how will their fellows react when we attack them? Do we know how many of them there are?" Stewart paused before his next point, because for those in the room not wearing uniforms, this would be the most terrifying point of all.

"And Mister President, at some point the public will find out."


	7. Consolidation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The small number of active Autobots find themselves shipwrecked and vastly outnumbered and Optimus Prime can not help them.

Ratchet reviewed the last local day. An hour after the battle Ratchet gathered those he could. Prowl was unconscious again, having acquired wounds in the fight and was being cared for by Teletran's automated repair androids. In addition to the sprightly Cliffjumper, was the source of the missile attack that had spooked Megatron into retreating, and Ratchet could not have hoped for anyone better than Wheeljack to have at his side. Wheeljack had not been in good shape but had nonetheless travelled from his position near the bridge all the way down to the hold to fire those crucial missiles. The strange flesh based indigenous life form had fled the moment the battle had started and Ratchet could not blame it. This left seventeen Autobots to carefully revive. There were three casualties. Amazingly Jazz had escaped harm despite his proximity to the battle. Prowl, while unconscious rather than comatose, would take longer to get back on line while his wounds were tended. The first casualty though, was not of their ilk. Thundercracker had been shifted to a more secure location while Cliffjumper was outside the Ark, and Wheeljack now had enough command of Teletran's systems that the automated androids were, for the moment, ignoring the Decepticon.

And Optimus Prime was headless.

Autobot leadership would now be sorely tested. Both Prime and his deputy were incapacitated. Theoretically Jetfire was now the ranking Autobot warrior, but Jetfire was not a leader, and had no command experience. In an environment with more command oversight Jetfire could take command, but this world was isolated and the supervision Jetfire might have needed was not available. This left Jazz and Wheeljack as the ranking officers. Wheeljack was the mission's engineer, better suited to advise than lead. Jazz, as an operations specialist would take command until Prowl could return to active duty. But Jazz was a maverick personality, which might point to a more aggressive stance than prudence might normally allow. In a normal situation Jazz would plan an operation on the assumption it would go ahead and let Prime decide on the larger ramifications. That safety net was gone. All this worried Ratchet, but Wheeljack was commander for the moment and alternative options, foremost among them being the more cautious Wheeljack taking command, would not be considered. First priority had been to bring Jazz back on line and develop plans from there. Wheeljack speculated that Trailbreaker would be next and should be prepared on the basis of his experience with defensive fortification.

After a second search for Prime's head nearby the Ark wreckage proved fruitless, thoughts of their commander were put aside. Energon was still being collected, slowly, and the Decepticons had taken what had built up since landfall. With Jazz online and Trailbreaker recovering, Jazz convened a meeting.

"Well Autobots what have we learned? Ratchet?" Jazz, in his new form was stood about ten metres tall, with large white panels, with blue and red trim lines, bulbously forming armour over black limbs. A prominent breast plate, again in the white with blue/red trim, jutted forward from a black torso. The head was black, nobly and angular with a silver face and blue wrap around vision plate. Ratchet had a prepared answer for what he thought Jazz would lead with.

"Everyone within the Ark is, or will, recover just fine. There are six of us online, including Prowl, four fit for active duty, with Trailbreaker fit by the end of the local day. As much as we would like to start bringing back more of us, I will put a halt to that for the moment. We need to consolidate energon supplies just for the moment until we can effectively increase energon generation. Just two casualties from the battle and landfall, and that’s where it hurts most, Optimus Prime and Prowl. Prowl's injuries are not serious, but rehabilitation will not be fast. Jazz you will need to be thinking about leadership for the short term."

"And Prime?" Jazz voiced what everybody needed to know. Again Ratchet had a prepared answer.

"I do not know. His body is fine and there has been no death trauma, but beyond that. I'm not receiving current telemetry but there is no reason to believe he is dead. I think we have to be prepared for the concept that the Decepticons have him." Ratchet carefully watched reactions. Cliffjumper did not disappoint.

"Then lets go get him," the small Autobot stood, fists clenched. Cliffjumper, smaller than the others present, and the only member of his squad on line, Cliffjumper was a vivid bright red with a bulbous torso with black legs over large red feet. Short black arms with two large round objects mounted on the outside of each arm. A large red helmet over a black head with two horns completed the look. Jazz looked unhappy. Wheeljack was fine, but he already knew what Ratchet knew. But so had Cliffjumper. Trailbreaker looked slumped. It might have been depression, or it might just have been his semi-dormant condition. Health telemetry from the black Autobot was inconsistent.

"There are not enough of us to attempt that job," said Trailbreaker. Trailbreaker looked uncomfortably top heavy, a large black torso with slightly spindly red legs. His arms looked as oversized as his torso and awkward. He brightened suddenly as if finding something. "I would be curious to see what kind of engineering creation Megatron would turn you into if you tried."

"But Prime..." started Cliffjumper hotly.

"We won't forget Prime Cliffjumper. We have to get ourselves in fighting shape and before we can attack anyone. Anything else Ratchet?"

"A few things. Teletran is down, but that's more Wheeljack's department." Wheeljack nodded his head forward slightly.

"Sorry Jazz, no time estimate, Teletran will be back when its fixed," put in Wheeljack. Ratchet paused. He had some large thoughts and wanted to share them. Reactions were sure to be mixed.

"You will no doubt have noticed we have been templated. No-one seems to be impaired by their new shapes but we'll have to wait on that one. That does not concern me as much as there was something on this world to template from. When we arrived on this world it was pre-intelligence and electronically dead. Now there are vehicles to template. Someone built these vehicles. I encountered a small local life form but it seems unlikely that such a species could create vehicles. I think we have to think about that we have been here for some time. Possibly a long time. And there may be someone other than Decepticons who won't like our presence here." There was a long pause as the others digested these new thoughts. Predictably, Jazz, ever the operational thinker, had quickly analysed what was needed now and what could be dealt with later.

"That doesn't matter yet Ratchet. Home and the war will have to wait. What is our defensive posture?" There was a pause. "Trailbreaker?" Trailbreaker wasn't on the game, that was plain enough to Ratchet. He would have a word after the meeting.

"Sorry. Systems aren't quite working right. Wheeljack, do we have any heavy guns?"

"Most of the Ark's weapons were destroyed during landing, those that weren't, can't be brought to bear in any meaningful direction. Maybe some of the aft guns can be made to work, but I'm busy with Teletran."

"Then we're down to personal weapons," sighed Trailbreaker. "Hand guns and missile launchers. Missiles will be of most importance, for stand off defence. Jazz, you and Wheeljack can provide three launders, but we need more. You really need Prowl for something like this not a guzzler like me."

"We don't have Prowl," started Ratchet testily.

"You know the job Trailbreaker; you know systems, weapons and strategy. You can do it," finished Jazz.

"Just give me a pair of launchers. I'll protect you Trailbreaker."

"Thanks Cliffjumper I feel so much better," replied Trailbreaker sardonically. "I know you will want to revive the engineering types first but we will need warriors if Megatron comes back or if any third parties come sniffing. If I can't have Prowl, I want Bluestreak, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker or Mirage. We also need Jetfire so someone can reconnoitre the area at a safe speed. I'm going to make a stockpile of all guns not in direct use, so we can project more firepower with fewer numbers. I don't want anyone walking around without at least one heavy rifle. You too Ratchet."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, something Ratchet alluded to. If there is another species on this planet, they may be armed. They may have much higher technology than us and we may have no defence against that. Megatron may be finding that out now. Does not that make you smile? I don't think it is likely though. They may be much lower than us with weaponry, but there may be a lot of them. From a brief scan there is a near saturation of signals from nearby settlements and further a field. I think there may be a settlement not far from here. There is also a moral issue here. If they have little defence against us, and they attack anyway, can we hit back, and likely slaughter them?"

"Yes." said Cliffjumper, with a look on his face that defied anyone to argue. There was a brief uncomfortable silence.

"Well, lets get to work..."

"There is still one more issue," said Ratchet. "We have a prisoner." This was news to all bar Wheeljack. Ratchet had put the wounded Thundercracker into medical stasis in the pod next to Prowl, but had not activated the auto repair droids. Unless Thundercrackers onboard repair systems were much more efficient than anyone he had examined, it would contain the Decepticon for now.

"Who?" typically Jazz was the first to recover.

"Where is he?" Cliffjumper suddenly had a hand gun in one fist; the other was clenching and unclenching. The short red Autobot was standing, a near fanatical gleam in his eyes.

"Cliffjumper sit down, now!" there was an edge in Jazz voice completely unfamiliar to all. With a hint of exasperation and a touch of desperation, as if he didn't know what he could do if Cliffjumper persisted.

"Those scraggers did in Prime!"

"We don't know if he is dead. You heard Ratchet, he thinks Optimus is alive. We will need this Decepticon to find out where they are," said Jazz forcefully. There was a long moment. Cliffjumper took a step towards the passageway, and Jazz stood. Wheeljack stood too and moved to cover the other side of the large console table they were all seated around. A panel opened in Cliffjumper's thigh and the gun was holstered. The moment passed and all sat once more, although Wheeljack now sat closer to the door.

"It is Thundercracker. One of Starscream's Seekers."

"I saw Starscream during the battle and it must have been Skywarp who got into the antechamber and compromised Prowl's defensive position," added Wheeljack. "If all the Seekers are here that is quite a potent unit."

"We can't defend against a combat squadron with just five of us. We need Bluestreak and Jetfire immediately," said Trailbreaker suddenly, jerking out of his apparent lethargy.

"Do not panic," Jazz felt the need to impose himself over the conversation and the others fell silent, accustomed to stopping for Optimus Prime's commands. "We do not know it is all of the Seekers. I did not see Cyclonus. Wheeljack can we sustain one more Autobot?"

"As long as we do not have to do any fighting."

"Wheeljack that will not be good enough. We can not guarantee that Megatron will not come back to try and finish us off. Ratchet I want you to bring back Sideswipe. Also I want you and Wheeljack looking for ways to step up energon production. You can have Cliffjumper for help. Wheeljack, continue repairing Teletran and you can have my help there. Trailbreaker, stockpile weapons and start looking at some external defensive positions."

"We need someone to keep look out," said Trailbreaker. "I can do that. It will help conserve energon too if I am not moving around."

"No, we may need access to a greater arsenal sooner rather than later. Cliffjumper, you are the look out until Sideswipe is ready. Take whatever steps necessary to maintain cover. Sorry Ratchet you are on your own. Anything else? Right, firewall the burners." The last line cheered Ratchet slightly. Underneath all the pressure, Jazz was still Jazz. Cliffjumper and Trailbreaker left, with Wheeljack after a short pause looking at Jazz for any subtle instructions, which there were none.

"Anything you need to talk about?" Jazz seemed to ignore Ratchets query for a long moment.

"I don't think I'll be able to do this for very long. I am a tactics type of Autobot. I respond to situations and make plans on a small scale."

"Lean on Trailbreaker for some long range thinking."

"Trailbreakers outlook is defensive. Good for covering bases, but he is too negative in his current frame of mind. He looks like he is suffering from depression. There is no vision. If the Decepticons come we might be able to hold our own, but all we are doing is fortifying. We need to be thinking of getting home. We need to be thinking about what Megatron might do here on this planet, to this other race here, and what he is doing right now. We need Prime. We need Prowl." Jazz paused for a moment. Ratchet decided not to interject with Jazz thought processes. Only a few days ago, Ratchet and Jazz would have been trading friendly barbs like a pair of hostile capital ships exchanging broadsides. Now the dynamic was different. Jazz was his commander and deserved his respect. "Get Trailbreaker in to medical and conduct a diagnostic on him." That seemed like a good idea. If nothing else to check if there was nothing else wrong with him, and to help carry Sideswipe around.

"Stars up Jazz," said Ratchet with a traditional phrase of good cheer and slapped Jazz midriff armour with an open gauntlet and stepped out of the conference room. His hopes of triggering Jazz's familiar cheery personality were dashed when the black face remained thoughtfully dormant, neither acknowledging or flinching. That got Ratchet worrying again.


	8. What Ever Happened To Optimus Prime?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buster Witwicky returns home carrying a passenger he can not explain.

"Buster if you don't spit out what you've been choking on, you face is going to turn into that lemon you're trying to swallow."

Buster had returned home from his interstate trip earlier than his family expected considering relief operations were still ongoing. The Witwicky household was a large single story affair in the suburbs of Salem, Oregan. Buster lived with his father and younger brother in the family home of their recent youth.

Buster's mother had left some years ago and inflicted a not very pretty divorce upon the family that Buster resented for having been dragged through family courts because he and his brother were still under aged at the time. His father recovered and he still owned the home and his business, an automobile performance and repair shop, which did quite well for itself and had a loyal group of customers amongst the Oregon street racing community.

The speaker, Spiro "Sparkplug" Witwicky was a stocky, although far from short, man, to which the years had added weight, and while not appearing overly fat, Sparkplug's frame carried just over 100 kilos and he had arms which could get rusty bolts off an ill cared for Chevy block or clear a bar on Saturday night if provoked. These days he did much more of the former than the latter. Sparkplug, son of mixed European immigrants was a war baby who got to experience the sixties as they were meant to be experienced, at least until Buster had been born. After being involved briefly in the Trans-Am pony car racing community that thrived on the West Coast he moved his young family north as racing faded in the 70's and as California started decaying into a tourist venue with an extremely thin veneer wallpapered badly over a seedy underbelly. Buster's Mother had missed the protected Californian lifestyle that marriage to Sparkplug had offered and eventually that grew into resentment, triggering the break-up.

Sparkplug obviously expected some kind of reply the way he was looking at Buster, maybe even a conversation starter into the source of Buster's concern. But how did you explain what he had seen in the Cascades?

"I'm still figuring out what I saw Dad." That seemed to mollify Sparkplug a bit, but to Spike it increased his interest.

"Really bro? 'Fess up, what did you see up there that spooked ya?" No longer the self-interested young teen, Spike was growing up rapidly. Brown haired to Buster's blonde, he would one day become the spitting image of Sparkplug. But a tale of disaster and nature induced violence would still enliven a dull Sunday afternoon late lunch. The three had been sitting down with sandwiches and beers, Spike was underage but nobody seemed to care, watching the latest NASCAR race. Sparkplug still had a lot of racing contacts and some of his former colleagues and rivals had risen to the top of the sport.

"Check your Jeep Wrangler now for just $12,990"

All three men stopped any conversation to look at the television. The sentence it had uttered. There had been no commercial. NASCARs continued to whiz around the speedbowl at Phoenix. The commentators continuing to call the subtleties of drafting and the action in the pits as cars started to run short of fuel and dived towards the pits.

"Check your Jeep Wrangler now for just $12,990"

Again, in a much louder voice, the sentence burst through the coverage of the race. What made it stranger was there were two voices. 'Check your' was harshly electronic. Like a bad villain from a B Grade science-fiction film Spike decided. But the rest of the sentence was uttered in the smooth delivery of a radio advertisement. Buster looked slightly shaken.

"Check your Jeep Wrangler now for just $12,990"

"There's something wrong with the damn television again," grumbled Sparkplug. An engine fired up in the background, near the house. A Jeep engine. Spike was on his feet heading for the garage, with Buster on his heels. Light peeked out underneath the door when Spike knew the garage lights were off. Spike got to the door first and ripped it open, expecting to see Buster's Jeep backing up the drive with a thief at the wheel. But the Jeep sat there quivering, engine revving with headlights flicking on and off intermittently, spookily picking out highlights off the back wall of the garage off the racks of tools, Busters bicycle and the front half of Spike's partially restored sports car.

The two brothers just stood in the doorway, not wanting to take another step forward. Buster reached into his right shorts pocket and pulled out his car keys and stared at them stupidly. Sparkplug arrived behind them and looked over Buster's shoulder, before gently pushing past Buster, forcing Spike into the garage itself. Sparkplug reached for the light switch and the overhead fluorescents flickered on. Suddenly with more light, the garage seemed more familiar and less frightening and the three men stepped properly into the garage. Beyond the Jeep sat the reassuring bulk of Sparkplug's work Dodge pick-up with the bare-metal look of Spike's Datsun suddenly looking like a half finished car again. But the Jeep continued to rev until Sparkplug put a hand on the drivers door handle. The sudden quiet seemed profound. It took a few moments for background noise to filter back in with the tinking of the cooling engine, and the semi-distant noise of Chris Economaki on the television creeping into their hearing.

"What the hell..."

"Greetings!" Spike's exclamation was suddenly cut in by a voice thundering from the Jeeps tinny radio speakers, with a slight echo coming from the living room television behind them.

"Ummm huh-hi," stammered Buster at his own Jeep.

"Now look here," started Sparkplug.

"I need your help." As if a talking car wasn't enough, its voice was the audio equivalent of a ransom note, snatches of other peoples voices, glued together haphazardly, as if the Jeep wouldn't trust its own voice.

"This is a trick. The Benson's have built an FM bug. Vance is dead when I catch him." Spike was looking for reasonable explanations. It didn't explain the remote control engine and all three of them knew it.

"Let's pop the hood and have a look." The sentence, delivered in a Southern drawl came out from one voice. Nobody moved.

"Buster."

"OK Dad." Buster moved to the front of the Wrangler and fiddled for the latch. The bonnet came up and Buster put the stay in position to hold it up.

Then he looked at the engine, and gasped. Sparkplug and Spike crowded forward to look. There in the engine bay on the side of the block, bulging outwards was a head. It wasn't human. Made of blue and grey metal it was the head of a sci-fi robot.

Not unlike the robotic heads he had seen back in the mountains. Two blue eyes blazed beneath a blue peaked brim and above a blank grey face. There was no mouth as such and a pair of antennae projected roughly from the ears. It filled most of the engine bay and had pushed the engine aside. But not brokenly, as all the engines plumbing was still routed correctly and no oil or water was venting onto the floor.

"Buster, what kind of joke is this?"

"I need your help."

"Who are you? How did you get in there?" Spike wanted to know everything. He could see all kinds of potential for whatever invention this 'engine-head' represented.

"My name is Optimus Prime. Our... my vessel crash landed back near a mountain. One of you was there and saw the crash site." The language sounded as though it was being forced, as though by someone unfamiliar with the terminology.

"Buster?" Both Sparkplug and Spike had recovered from the initial shock, but Buster was another matter. He sat down on the step from the garage door to the house and put his head in his hands.

"I still don't know what I saw. But there was some kind of underground facility in one of the mountains. There were these armoured suits walking around, with heads like that," Buster pointed at the Jeep and its obscene bulge in the engine bay. "There were metal Eagles as well. One of them dropped a bomb or something at me."

"My head was cut from my body and Buzzsaw tried to carry me off when they retreated," said Prime, continuing to speak through the Jeeps speakers. "One of the Autobots fired at Buzzsaw and he dropped my head near you where I bonded with you, your car, to be alive."

"What's an Autobot?" asked Spike.

"I am an Autobot," said Prime simply. "I need your help to get back to my fellows and get my body back. Can you help me?" While the conversation had progressed, Sparkplug had been moving slowly towards the engine bay.

"We'll get back to you," said Sparkplug, and ripped the leads off the battery. As Sparkplug hoped the blue eyes went dark and the conversation ceased. "Buster we need to have a long talk, but first, Spike get my tool belt from the truck. I want to have a closer look at this."

Buster continued to sit and stare at nothing while his father and brother peered closer into the Jeeps engine bay. Buster was aware of their excited commentary of their new discovery, but Buster himself took no part, despite verbal prodding from his father. Buster knew tonight he would not be able to close his eyes without seeing those two behemoths, blue and white, fighting, towering above him.


	9. First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having survived being shot down by giant alien robots, a US Air Force fighter pilot finds himself being interrogated, by a giant bird.

Megatron looked out over the patch of open desert. A never ending vista of sand interspersed with the occasional rock formation. It was somewhat less than inspiring and nothing like the smoke rimmed industrial complexes he knew so well. This was a foreign environment with its own set of rules. His kind of urban warfare would not work here. Tactics would have to be rethought.

When they had arrived here it had been an alien environment, but now, somehow it was no longer alien, it was foreign, inhabited, populated and armed. When had this race of aliens settled this world and how had they grown so numerous so quickly?

However, it was a planet still young, and by the view before him, still under-developed. This place may have possibilities. Resources without recycling was a tantalising prospect all by itself. However a lack of certain kinds of resources could be seriously debilitating.

"Soundwave, do you have any information on how these whoo-moons generate power?" Soundwave had created a link to some primitive computer driven information networks, and now having broken the basic barriers into the local language, and its computer operating systems, was plundering its databases.

"Electricity, direct supply. Storage of energy extremely primitive, no methods of creating energon. Methods of power generation vary. Majority is turbine driven. Investigation continuing." 

"Megatron, small aircraft approaching." Frenzy was a kilometre away from the rest of the group, in the direction Soundwave estimated contained below ground facilities.

"Someone is coming to negotiate with us Starscream. There is an opportunity here for us to be given all we need without wasting a single drop of Energon."

"Human." Ashby jarred awake suddenly as the voice boomed down at him. A brief glimpse of bright light and Ashby clamped his eyelids shut again. The harsh desert sun continued to burn down, gently roasting his skin and trying to burn its way through his eyelids. The pilots eyes blinked into focus as a darkened shape moved and filled the world in front of him. Eyes still adjusting, the image was a large jagged shadow, moving in a very un-human manner. Weren't talking animals supposed to be small, cute and cuddly?

"Pay attention human." Eventually Ashby distinguished an immense black beak was looking down at him with bright yellow eyes. But it was a beak full of sharp angles and metallic plates, like a robotic impersonation of a bird. The voice, amplified though it was, held a quiet menace to it. It seemed jarringly inappropriate.

"You will answer my questions, and you will do so in a timely manner or I shall discover how you were assembled." Ashby pushed back along the hard packed sand under his hands, eyes fully on the great black and red metal bird that waddled after him. Ashby suddenly found something solid behind his back. There was a cool press of metal against his back and something moved into his peripheral vision on the right.

Ashby's brain registered the vague shape of the head of a big cat and the pilot screamed a wordless shout and froze. Calming his panic the features resolved itself as a large, a very large black metal panther, twice the size of any panther he had seen before. Ashby pushed away to his left, continuing to watch the Eagle and the Panther that matched his pace. Again Ashby bumped against something metallic. A huge metal hand grabbed his right shoulder and hauled him to his feet.

Ashby's head throbbed from dehydration and the remnants of the exertion that the ejection had placed on his body, and he could feel his grasp on reality slipping.

"What weapons would you use against those not of your world? What weapons could you use?" Ashby's head cleared suddenly. This was something he could understand. He was being interrogated.

"I am Major Stephen Ashby, serial number 457831A, United States Air Force."

"Are you planning on resisting my questioning human? Describe to me your weapons or we will damage you." There was a noise of compressed air and suddenly the Eagle had leapt onto the Panther's back. Two huge black gauntlets held him in place against something solidly metal while the great metal beak peered closer. Two great yellow eyes boring in on Ashby's skull, looking directly into the pilots brain, closer and closer, virtually touching his face. He jerked his helmet back and heard the thump of plastic against metal.

"Muh-Major Stephen Ashby, 457831A, US Air Force." Part of Ashby's brain analysed what he said and was alarmed, having heard himself stammer. Ashby could see the moisture in his breath condensing on the squared off beak in front of him.

"In the past I have found pain a remarkable lubricant for the purposes of gathering information. I proposed to test that theory again. Rumble, remove an arm, either will do." Panic suddenly filled Ashby's head. What were they doing? The hand holding his right shoulder shifted, moving to the left shoulder while the other hand grasped his arm just below the left wrist. The pain was small at first as the figure behind him took up the slack, and then it overwhelmed his mind. He could hear someone screaming, unaware it was Ashby himself.

 

Laserbeak, quickly over the underpowered blast of Megatron’s fusion cannon, watched dispassionately as the strange soft creature writhed in torment. Dark red fluid gushed out from the exposed shoulder joint, staining the flimsy fabric based armour it wore and colouring the sand, which immediately soaked up the fluid. It seemed Laserbeak might have gone too far. How forgiving would Megatron be with this result? Laserbeak found himself obsessing with Megatron's Fusion Cannon.

"The creature does not look healthy," commented Rumble unhelpfully, still holding the creatures left arm. The creature’s skin appeared to be lightening, and its screaming was subsiding, although it now appeared dazed and unresponsive.

"Human. Shall I have Rumble remove another arm?" Laserbeak prodded the huddled and stained figure with his beak.

"Go da hell," was a weak response. Soundwave's language translation files, which were only just better than functional, held no meaning for 'hell'. The human slumped into unconsciousness at that point. The flow of red fluid had slowed. As were the creatures easily monitorable internal organs. Plainly it was dying. These humans were considerably more fragile than their weapons suggested.

"Can you tell me anything useful Laserbeak?" Megatron had been in conference with Starscream and Soundwave, planning, or more likely instructing next moves, but wanted to be kept appraised.

"These humans are far more fragile than they appear or their armaments might suggest. We have killed it after just removing a limb," reported Laserbeak, aware that this was a pitifully small amount of information when he was already on Megatron’s bad side. The Decepticon interrogator thought about their guns and the flimsy armour they wore.

"Some analysis," the avian added. "If they are this poor at armouring themselves against their own weapons, it would seem to suggest that in battle they may be prepared to suffer significant losses. They are probably able sustain attrition well beyond that we might find a disastrous defeat. If we can find another human we would be able to get more data." That at least might give Megatron something to think about.

 

"Megatron, majority of turbine power generators in this area powered by steam. Steam generated by nuclear fission reactors."

"Interesting. If they have fission reactors for power generation then they will have fission explosives," considered Megatron. "Fusion devices are only a small technological step from fission devices. We may have to be careful confronting these humans."

"There will be no need for such care," scoffed Starscream. "They are puny, weak and can not fly unaided. Our smallest calibre projectile weapon is like artillery to them." Megatron just looked at Starscream for a moment but provided no further comment on the aviator’s assertion.

 

The Sikorsky Super Stallion raced across the desert floor. The big heavy lift helicopter, looking not unlike a wheel-less bus with the corners rounded and a large triangle section cut from the back to make a loading ramp, and painted an conspicuous day-glo orange and white, its paintwork was designed to be seen, unlike most Super Stallions which were painted in various shades of dull camouflage greens, browns and greys.

The Stallion had raced past Frenzy's outpost position without even noticing, the Decepticon continuing to look back in the direction the helicopter had come from, searching for follow up action if the aircraft was a decoy. Sitting back in the cabin amongst a small detachment of troops was an officer.

Major Michael Yates sat with a battered looking laptop perched on his knees and a set of insulated headphones over his ears. Yates was young for a Major, or at least was younger in his features than his age might have suggested, tall and thin, verging on wiry after years of army fitness training as a field officer in infantry then seconded to intelligence with a semi-regular special forces training billet. His career, to this point, had almost mirrored his superior, General Stewart.

"Yates you know I trust you on this," said the voice in his headphones. "We are not negotiating with them at this stage. They will expect you to appear intimidated, and I want you to play up to that. Colonel Bourne and I are on the way to you, we're just boarding fast jets at Andrews AFB. I won't lie to you and say this is not potentially hazardous. The blue sky boys have lost contact with two jet jockeys, which seem to be related. Remember to keep breathing; I want you to be able to brief me on the results."

"Sir."

"Standard first contact rules of engagement Yates. Only if fired upon AND safety is threatened. Any questions?"

"No sir."

"We are on our way. Good luck." With a crackle the radio went dead. Yates unplugged the headset, shut down the computer; folded and stowed it into a pouch attached to the wall of the passenger compartment beside him and hung the headset on the hook provided. The big Stallion's flight profile was changing; speed was dropping and would shortly flare for landing. Yates turned to look out the hatch where a Vulcan mini-cannon would normally hang. Already the heads of the taller of the robots were out of easy sight above him. The big chopper was flaring now and dust was being whipped up as the helicopter landed. Yates withdrew his head reached over and grabbed another black painted insulated headset to talk to the flight crew.

"Down OK?", asked Yates.

"No problem Major." The pilot was a former squadron commander and outranked Yates. This was the sort of mission where experienced troops were like gold. Reactions may be slower, but the decisions would be sound, and more respectful of prolonged life. It was one of the strange contradictions of military service, the longer you had served, the longer you wanted to live, although in this situation, the Lieutenant Colonel realised his life was in the hands of this young Major and the astonishing things arrayed outside the right side of his airframe. He was also distinctly uncomfortable with Yates request to shut down the helicopter completely once landed. Once the main rotor stopped turning, Yates donned a pair of slim dark sunglasses and nodded to the Lieutenant by his side. The detachment of Rangers formed up at the base of the Super Stallions boarding ramp on each side, forming an honour guard. It had been decided some exaggerated military formality might impress the 'foreigners.' Yates walked down the boarding ramp into the blazing heat of the Nevada desert.

Yates looked upwards towards the humanoid heads of the creatures, hoping desperately one of them would not say 'take me to your leader.' One figure in polished chrome moved a step towards Yates, its step shaking the ground beneath his feet. The creature towered some forty feet above him, but when the voice first spoke, mercifully in English, the voice issued not from the head forty feet away, but from speakers hidden presumably near the creature’s immense feet.

"What role are you here to perform?" There was superiority in the voice, arrogance based on the belief, Yates guessed, that the likes of Yates could not harm him.

"To welcome you here to our planet, Earth and to our nation the United States of America and to serve as an initial point of contact between yourselves and our government, I..." Yates found himself spoken over.

"See this hoomoon welcomes us Starscream? Is that not amusing? We have been here on this world far longer than you or your kind hoomoon. So you are a minor functionary and this is a delaying tactic. Are you bringing up some of your nuclear explosives to deploy against us? Would you pollute this region in a failed attempt to silence difficult questions it would be easier to hide away to an underground facility, like those just nearby perhaps?" Yates found himself on the back foot. The alien was incredibly well informed, how long had these things been watching humanity. Perhaps the alien only wanted to appear well informed. It was not his job to pump for information at this stage.

"Not at all, we have negotiators on the way, negotiators which have the authority to make deals with you and communicate directly with our command structure."

"And you do not." The response came much more like a command than a suggestion. "Since we have time to waste I suggest you allow some of my staff to reconnoitre the area?"

"We would prefer you didn't do that, less you frighten our civilian population." The moment he said it Yates knew he had said too much.

"Civilian? You have a large population of non-combatants?" This voice was different, higher pitched and whiny and came from a different 'robot' to the left who walked towards the first one, with the treads of a Dinosaur walking the earth. Predominately grey with red highlights, two large reversed wings sprouted from this one's back. Yates briefly wondered what they were for.

"It is certainly significant to us," hedged Yates. The cat was out of the bag, no point in lying about it.

"We have methods of disguising ourselves," said the first one. "Starscream, Skywarp, transform."

The grey and red figure with the shrill voice, and a black one in the background who had not spoken both tipped forward and fell towards the ground. The grey one was falling towards Yates who found himself shrinking away and stepping backwards towards the Super Stallion. As the figure fell its arms straightened and rotated backward towards a cavity in its chest as a bulbous shape, followed by another conical shape rotated forward out of the things chest, forming a pointed nose. Two large surface area limbs rotated into place on the things back, forming large wings and suddenly a replica of a McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle took form in front of him. Two of them, as Yates noticed the black one in the background. They could disguise themselves as vehicles. This was a frightening development.

"That is most ingenious," Yates said eventually. The chrome figure provided no further commentary. Yates tried another gambit.

"How should I present you to others?"

"I am Megatron and we are Decepticons."

"Just Megatron?"

"I have yet to find an honorific in your language appropriate to my station." While Yates appreciated the effort this alien appeared to be making to talk down to him, the arrogance and patronizing tone could not be disguised. Megatron turned his back a walked away towards a blue robot as the two ersatz F-15s took to the skies, taking off without the need of a runway. Plainly this audience was at an end. Yates retreated towards the Super Stallion and settled in to wait for General Stewart, mentally preparing the report of mankind’s first encounter with another race.


	10. Holy Grail

It had taken an hour to talk Jazz out of sending himself on the quest but now things looked ready to Trailbreaker.

It has started with Cliffjumper's incessant complaints about Optimus Prime's condition. Every chance he got the aggressive Autobot would complain to whoever would listen, or even was simply present that they needed to mount a raid to get Optimus Prime back. Ratchet pointed out that occasionally, very occasionally, he would get flickers of health telemetry from Prime. Prime was in the vicinity, although not necessarily the immediate facility. The medic developed a theory that Prime was not actually with the Decepticons, who surely were blazing a trial of destruction somewhere else.

Ratchet also then explained about the strange alien he had encountered during his fight with Thundercracker. At roughly the same time Wheeljack had cracked a connection into the local information web link as was happily hacking away at the local network and had come across a repository of images. Teletran still wasn't fully working, but most of the computers systems could be operated remotely. Suddenly caught up in the concept of an intelligence operative, Wheeljack had suspended repairs to Teletran and took over Teletrans systems directly, supervising the hacking into the humans network.

It did not take much to distract Wheeljack from a repetitive mundane task such as his work on Teletran. Within a very short space of time he had a match of the image Ratchet had supplied. There was some local language attached, hopefully some of it would provide a location if a map could be sourced.

A near exhausted probe Teletran had launched four years ago had been located in orbit and a image of the area surrounding the Ark as seen by the probe in orbit was acquired.

Jazz fleshed out the basics of a special operations mission and found himself caught up in the thrill and the romance of the concept. Caught behind enemy lines, in an alien landscape with a complete language barrier to surpass. And no hope of refuelling. It wasn't until Wheeljack and Ratchet forcibly pointed it to him that Jazz could not go that the operation was discussed in full.

With the ability to survive long periods with limited energon supplies quickly becoming the primary mission parameter it was obvious that another Autobot had to be awakened.

So now with an energon tank pack attached to his chest, the ever cheery yellow figure of Goldbug stood ready to undertake the search for the strange alien who might lead them to Optimus Prime.

Shorter even than Cliffjumper, Goldbug was just under 5 metres tall with large yellow rounded feet beneath slightly spindly black legs, a bulbous yellow torso and two short black arms with two wheels and tyres mounted on each. His head was similar to Cliffjumper with the slight Samurai look replaced by Viking influences with two curved horns jutting from the side of Goldbugs yellow and white head.

Goldbug was not his usual effervescent self however. He uncomfortably shifted the heavy pack on his chest.

"How do I find a map if I can't transform out of vehicle mode?"

"I never said this was going to be easy," said Jazz. "Considering how much bigger we are, you might frighten the locals."

"I thought Prime said this world was uninhabited."

"We have a lot of questions Goldbug," said Ratchet. "We do not need any more."

Trailbreaker stepped towards Goldbug and handed him a hand gun.

"I already have a pistol Trailbreaker."

"This is Mirage's spare pistol. He had the power output downgraded, for personal reasons I'm guessing. It should work to incapacitate these organic locals without harming them."

"Are you sure about that?" Trailbreaker paused before answering. He was not sure. But would Goldbug hesitate to defend himself if he thought his only option was to kill them? What if he relied upon the weapon only to find it deadly?

"No I am not. We have lacked subjects to test it."

"I should hope so. Tell Prowl I hope he is well soon and I will bring him back a nice blue souvenir."

"So long as it talks I will be very happy my friend," said Jazz with a smile and pantomimed a slap on his chest armour where the volatile energon pack sat uncomfortably.

"Hey! Get back party droid. I will return soon. Wheeljack, Ratchet, TB, Sideswipe." Goldbug turned to each Autobot in turn. The engineer and the medic, incongruously carrying Bluestreak’s rifle, farewelled him warmly while the warrior merely nodded. "CJ I will bring you back a toy." Cliffjumper and Goldbug, long compatriots tapped their clenched right fists together in the warriors’ traditional greeting. Then Goldbugs legs tucked in, drawing his feet into his chest and his arms folded down to the ground and his head tucked forward into the chassis and the small yellow Volkswagen Beetle, with a slightly too large and laden roof rack, formed from Goldbugs shape to Cliffjumpers derisive laughter.

"You look ridiculous Goldbug," said Cliffjumper. Trailbreaker actually noticed him happy for the first time since landfall.

"Have you seen your Alt mode yet CJ?" asked Goldbug. Then the squat yellow shape was gone, bouncing down the track in the direction of local civilisation.

"What did he mean by that?" asked the offended Cliffjumper. "I do not look that silly, do I?" Jazz, Wheeljack and Ratchet had already left, returned to the habitable portions of the Arks wreckage. Only Sideswipe and Trailbreaker were left, the tall red figure leaning languidly against what used to be one of the Ark's thrust vents.

"Cliffjumper, you always look ridiculous." Sideswipe straightened and spun around, heading up the side of the hill, looking for a track towards the summit where he was to be stationed, leaving an indignant Cliffjumper to yell Cybertronian profanities at his back. Trailbreaker sighed and turned towards where the others had gone.


	11. Manipulations

"Then he... it just dismissed you?" After racing West on an US Air Force VIP bizjet, Stewart and Colonel Bourne had been transferred into two seat training versions of Harrier jump jets to transit to the site. These British built fighters were owned by the Marine Corps and were the only craft faster than a helicopter that could get to the scene delivering passengers because of their unique VTOL capability. Right now the Harriers and their recently acquired escort were dropping speed. Stewart was mindful that another pair of fighters had disappeared in this immediate area only hours before.

"Yes sir, the chrome chested one when you see them sir." Yates’ voice crackled through Stewarts headset.

"Do you have any other names we can pass on to linguistics?"

"The two jets were called Starscream and Skywarp sir. Starscream is the grey one." Stewart looked out the cockpit to his right where a black F-15 Eagle sat. There was a grey one off to the other side of Colonel Bourne's Harrier flying in the wingman position.

"We've seen them. They're making our pilots nervous right now."

"They seem to have rather dramatic names sir, it could be indicative of an egotistical or warlike nature," contributed Bourne. Bourne was breathing heavily, booming into his helmet mike. Bourne was a desk soldier and a poor flyer. Flying in the open canopy of a fast jet would have done nothing for Bournes neuroses. "The lack of rank names could be indicative," the last word was gasped and a cough was added after it. "Indicative of a lack of discipline. Perhaps a feudal or tribal like military structure. Or just as likely a guerrilla outfit."

Stewart pondered that. Might the United States have to face its greatest fear, a technologically advanced terrorist? Even a technologically superior terrorist? 

"Approaching LZ General." This was the voice of the Marine Corps Major flying his aircraft. The craft slowed to almost a halt in mid-air and the two aircraft were immediately surrounded in dust, bringing back visions of younger years of spec-ops helicopter dust-offs in hostile or unknown territory. The stakes were higher now. Stewart was no longer a camouflage-painted Captain working to protect his nation’s current account deficit serving some far off political goal. This time he was representing the interests of the planet, without the safety net of government support.

He had told his command structure and his Commander-in-Chief that they would be aggressively monitoring the situation. But Stewart did not trust the motives of President Robinson. There was a fierce built in loyalty in military service to the office of the President, but Stewart believe he owed his loyalty to the office, not the man sitting in it. There had been too many times where government policy had positively influenced business associates and businesses associated with Robinson's extended family. It was being said that policy decisions were being given priority on the basis on how it might personally affect Robinson's bottom line. He certainly had had no problem outspending his Democrat rival in the previous election.

Noise levels increased markedly, snapping Stewart out of his reverie as the canopy hinged open, allowing in what characterised the Harrier as the worlds noisiest jet fighter.

Bourne was already retrieving a leather bag from the small trunk hatch on Stewart's Harrier while Stewart started to disentangle himself from the cockpit. Both pilots remained in their cockpits, engines running ready to return to base once released from their charges. Bourne had been sick at some point in the flight as he was clasping a paper emesis bag in one hand. He was smart enough for a non-flying officer to hang onto the bag when it might be sucked into a Harrier engine if thrown away casually. Yates and an Army Ranger Lieutenant were jogging towards the jets, the Ranger relieved Bourne of the Generals satchel and the Colonels sick bag.

Stewart sprang down the steps built into the fuselage of the Harrier and jogged over towards Yates, checking Bourne and Lieutenant Rodgers were following with the bag, undoing his flight helmet as he jogged. The idling Harriers goosed their engines as canopies closed; lifting slowly into the air before turning tail and fleeing noisily back in the direction they had come.

Yates saluted his superiors as they approached.

"Good afternoon sir."

"Good to see you Yates. Let’s get this done shall we?" Stewart did not pause at Yates and kept marching towards Megatron, accepting his cap from Rodgers as he retrieved it and Bournes as they marched. A detachment of Rangers stood from the crouched positions and raced over, rifles at the ready, to escort the General as he approached Megatron. The blue robot beside Megatron indicated in the soldiers’ direction and Megatron turned and took a stride towards the party. Stewart has a prepared opening statement.

"Megatron? I am Brigadier Perkele Stewart, of the United States Army. I have been empowered on behalf of the United States Government to negotiate your status here in the United States."

"My crew and I crash landed here at the behest of others," said Megatron in a calm and controlled voice. "We merely want to leave your world and return to ours where we can be free of the Autobot threat." Stewart, initially surprised by Megatron’s contrite manner, felt he was being baited, but could not afford not to bite at the carrot Megatron was dangling.

"We'll get back to that; there are a few procedural questions I have to ask. How many of you are there?

"Six were killed in the fight and we have lost two more since then, we sadly number just nine now." In the background the black jet robot was counting his fingers in a distinctly human gesture and frowning. He looked about to say something when the grey one, appeared to get his attention and the black one went quiet. Stewart made a mental note to be wary of Megatron’s numbers. The next would require delicate wording.

"We... we also need to ask about a pair of fighter aircraft that flew this way. We believe they attacked you." There was an awkward pause. The grey and red one, presumably the fighter escort from before, actually smirked. He mentally named it Skywarp, and the black one Starscream.

"We were surprised," said Megatron almost hesitantly. For a building, he... it, Stewart caught himself starting to connect with this being, it made a great actor. Stewart knew the fighters had fired stand-off missiles first. "Both were destroyed but a small one flew away underneath some kind of shield. The other appeared to be killed." One parachuted to safety.

"If you could show us to the wreck, we would appreciate it if we could recover the pilot’s body."

"It can be arranged. Buzzsaw will help attend to your needs in that regard." A large eagle shaped robot, perched on a nearby rock, unfurled its wings and lit off its engines, flying towards Megatron, where the two briefly gained eye contact, then the eagle, presumably this was Buzzsaw, banked and turned away from the diplomatic discussion.

"Are you likely to be rescued from your predicament?" Stewart wanted to ask are there more of you on the way but had to phrase it better. At this point Megatron moved. One giant knee folded and the chromed giant crouched down on one knee. Since it did not need to do this to make itself comfortably heard, this was either a surprisingly human gesture or Megatron was a more astute judge of body language than he would have thought.

"We can't assume that a recovery mission would arrive in time with so many Autobots here." Again with the Autobots, Stewart noted.

“There is more of your kind on this world than your group here?” This was important to know.

“Of my kind? No. There are many Autobots back where we landed. We were involved in armed conflict at the upper reaches of your atmosphere and our joined vessels tumbled down where we made a barely controlled landing. They outnumbered us five one. If not for the accident, we would have been overcome and executed.”

“What are these Autobots likely to do now?”

“We were able to hold them some considerable time after your race arrived on this world and settled it. But many more were awakening and we were forced to flee the wreckage. They are likely to break out of their vessel and destroy everything in their path between them and us. I think there is much we can do to help each other in these arduous times ahead.” Whatever Megatrons motives, Stewart could not ignore what he was stating. But the great chrome warrior had made his first mistake. Why had he assumed that mankind had settled here? Did he mean white settlement of the Americas? Settlement of this world? Still Stewart now knew that Megatron was prepared to fudge the truth to get what he wanted. If he was to ask Stewart to attack these ‘Autobots’ he would listen, but he would listen for a message behind the words. In the meantime, Megatron was going to have to tell him much of how these Autobots fought.

Laserbeak and Rumble were still contemplating Major Ashby's corpse when Buzzsaw arrived.

"Megatron wants this... thing disposed of," Buzzsaw said with obvious distaste, surveying the stains in the sand. "The indigenous delegation is asking questions about it and the other one Starscream shot. It would not be good for Megatron's negotiating position."

"Why should I even care what these soft flesh bags think? I could slaughter thousands of them without even going through a verf of energon." Rumble waved the bloodied stump of Ashby's arm at Buzzsaw. Buzzsaw waddled backwards from Rumbles gesticulations wary of the obscene droplets of fluid Rumble was splashing about.

"Do it Rumble. You and Laserbeak created this mess, you clean it up." Laserbeak said nothing while Buzzsaw berated Rumble. He waddled towards the pilots corpse as was about to grab the cadaver by its shoulders when a communication sounded.

"Buzzsaw; two aliens approaching from South-West," rang the harshly electronic tones of Soundwave. "Expedite disposal immediately. Ravage; provide diversion." Ravage had been sitting quietly nearby, disguised by the lengthening shadows of the setting sun. The Casseticon sprang to its paws and dashed quickly away. Buzzsaw turned back to Laserbeak.

"Laserbeak, go now. And Rumble, give Laserbeak that disgusting lump of meat." In the dissipating light, distorted by the thickness of this disturbing planets atmosphere, Rumble's red livery almost glowed against the black of the majority of his body as he regarded the glinting golden figure of Buzzsaw, before turning and tossing the limp in the direction of Laserbeak who inclined his head, catching the limb like a seagull catches a potato chip at the beach and took to the skies, barely high enough to maintain flight and keep the corpse off the ground.

"One of them is flying off now. It appears to be carrying something large but I can't make it out." Corporal de Villota was squinting through a pair of binoculars while Private Moore watched over his partner, watching the surroundings, M16A2 assault rifle trained outwards ready, eyes aware for any sign of movement.

The pair, which on occasion worked as a sniper team had been dropped into position, flopped almost after stepping of the outrigger fairing of the small Hughes OH-57 Defender chopper to the rear of the Decepticon formation, their thick sand coloured Ghili suits immediately removing them from sight. Their arrival had been timed simultaneously to the flashy appearance of the Harrier jump jets carrying the senior SIU officers. De Villota and Moore had worked themselves into position slowly as the afternoon dragged by. With the sun setting now they took the opportunity to move quicker while they could still tell which way the strange robots direction.

Once close enough night vision goggles had appeared and now the pair watched the formation as a rearward listening post for Stewart, reporting what they saw and impressions. The group of smaller aliens had gathered some way behind the formation. There were two human sized bipeds and two large birds. De Villota was watching the group while Moore kept an eye on their immediate surroundings.

Moore saw something approaching and it wasn't until Ravage was almost upon them when Moore realised they were being approached by a big cat. 

"Corp!" De Villota turned away from his binoculars taking in the big cat as it continued its approach.

"Six be advised we are being approached by a Cougar and personal safety may be compromised. Moore envisioning being attacked by a Cougar still hoping that the beast would turn away, waited until he sensed the cat was practically upon them. Looking into a setting sun was deceived by the ambient light, and the actual size of Ravage, who despite looking in shape like a Panther was larger again than the biggest Lion. De Villota dropped his binoculars onto the neck chain and grabbed for his M16 and trained his out in the same direction as Moore

De Villota's senses, still mostly looking at the bustle of alien activity were drowned out when Moore, who felt he could wait no longer fired a three round burst at the cat. De Villota cursed loudly. Cover had been blown all for the lack of a silenced pistol. The bullets spanged off Ravage's armour and he continued forward suddenly filling the vision of both men as Moore fired a second burst at point blank range. Ravage hissed an electronic noise, and pounced, knocking Moore flat under the weight of the Decepticon. De Villota cried out and collapsed in pain, clutching a wound in his side. Still clenching his radio de Villota gasped out as loud as he could;

"Man down! Man down!"

Arms pinned beneath the weight of the cats strangely cold feeling forepaws, Moore just stared at the face of the cat. The cat, more like a Panther than a Cougar, but less like either moved its head around taking in carefully the soldier before looking across at de Villota who was hissing angrily through the pain of the ricochet wound in his side. The head turned back towards Moore.

"What are you doing here?" the voice was quiet, almost whispered, and heavily accented, but clearly came from the cat. What was left of Moore's composure shattered and the trained soldier screamed and kept on screaming as his mind ran away to hide when his body could not. A heavy paw smashed across his vision, ending the noise.

Standing beside the three SIU officers, Rodgers tensed suddenly as the bark of a M16 burst through the late afternoon stillness. The Rangers, scattered about between the aliens and the stationary Super Stallion all brought their rifles up, trained outwards from the helicopter, or in covering fire directions to support the four officers. A voice erupted from the tactical radio hissing Corporal de Villota's pleas. Stewart and Megatron both paused in their deliberations, as a tall squared off blue robot looked towards Megatron, as if communicating via telepathy.

"Sergeant Nolan! Take second squad and go to their assistance. Third squad fall back to the heelo, first squad on me." One of the soldiers made a sweeping arm signal and a third the troops present stood and started the peculiar jog-run of soldiers moving quickly at high alert with weapons at high guard. Of the remainder half formed a widely space perimeter about the Stallion, all of them with rifles and machine pistols at the ready. Rodgers turned to Stewart. "Sir we will have wounded. With your permission I'd like to get the helicopter spooled up."

Stewart cursed to himself. Just a single moment’s itchy trigger finger and the situation collapsed. Rangers were supposed to be better than this. All the while cursing, Stewart nodded and Rodgers turned towards the Super Stallion, pointed at the cockpit where both pilot and co-pilot had been watching the officers intently, and twirled his fingers in a circle above his head.

After a brief loud mechanical sound a heavy whining noise built up as the clutch released the power from the gas turbine engines into the main rotor.

"What is happening?" Megatron’s voice wasn't correctly adjusted to the subtleties of human hearing and was still too loud, his voice booming across the desert.

"One of my soldiers has been wounded in an incident with a large animal. We may have to leave to get his wounds treated. We have only one vehicle on hand and you'll forgive me when I say I don't completely trust you yet." Bourne cradled his radio as a message for Stewart came in, Bourne whispered an affirmative.

"Sir the LP was attacked by one of the robots and the two men wounded, the medic has called for the Stallion to evacuate them, I told them we are coming."

"Since time then is short I have an urgent request for you. We need to locate the vessel we came to your world in. It contains consumables we will need to survive any length of time on this world." Stewart strongly suspected Megatron was lying, but in case he wasn't he had a suspicion forming in his head, and an old diving memory.

"Can you show me what this vessel looks like?"

“Soundwave, an image of the Nemesis.” The squared-off blue robot turned and projected a three dimensional hologram in the air in front of the four officers. Rotating in the air in front of them was a heavily stylised craft. Oblate in cross section with a sharp point and an elevated bridge structure, it looked vaguely familiar to Stewart.

“Can you edit this image?” The Stallion was now up to speed and was inching forward indicating the pilots impatience to run medivac while the General held up proceedings.

“Affirmative,” Soundwave’s voice was harshly electronic and devoid of personality.

“Can you lean the bridge structure ten degrees to the left.” After a brief pause the superstructure leaned to one side. Stewart was sure now but wanted to go further.

“Can you put a hole the size of… you, near the middle of the prow, the pointy end. Put a five degree kink roughly in the middle of the structure. No other direction and rip the rear 20% from the vessel.” If Megatron looked concern over this potential description of his vessel he wasn’t showing it. But sure enough Stewart now was certain, and sighed heavily. “I’ve seen your ship and it’s at the bottom of the ocean.”


	12. Sentry Duty

The local star was setting, the terminator marching inexorably towards the mountain range. Perched on one of the higher ridgelines was an incongruous sight. A sharp angular wedge shape, unquestionable a motor vehicle, but it had the look of extravagant expense. Low slung, full of sharp corners, and a scarlet livery so deep you could imagine the fires of hell, if you looked close enough. The famous bull badge was missing on this Lamborghini. Instead a metallic red stylised androids face looked out at the world.

A road-less ridgeline deep in the Cascade Ranges was about the last place to find a hundred thousand dollar plus Lamborghini Countach. For this was not the latest automotive thoroughbred from Italy, this was Sideswipe the Autobot. Just as out of place as the Autobot logo were the array of long aerials, some rigid, some whip deployed from or beside the 'Countach'. Sideswipe was playing look out while his fellows were busy far below bringing the Ark back to life.

And Sideswipe was bored out of his cranial sub-frame. With only six Autobots up and about, not including Goldbug, everyone was frenetically busy except for Sideswipe. Even the undirected ball of annoyance called Cliffjumper was making himself useful and here was Sideswipe, playing sentry. He didn't even have Sunstreaker to trade verbal barbs with. Even supposing his slightly less than practical brother was conscious, Jazz had Sideswipe under strict EmCon, or emissions control. Which basically meant no transmissions of any kind unless urgent. And urgent meant Megatron striding over the nearest hillside Fusion Cannon at the ready. Who precisely had died and made Jazz leader hadn't been made precisely clear either. Sideswipe smiled to himself imagining what Sunstreaker would make of that.

The relationship between Sidewsipe and Sunstreaker was one that continued to surprise his fellow Autobots. They would describe each other in a manner that would induce violence in anyone else, and yet took each grievous insult as a term of endearment. Having spent virtually their entire lives since emerging from mould side-by-side each had recognised a kindred spirit in the other, and a talent for warfare that few appreciated let alone shared. It was a friendship as tight as any male-female relationship. But at this moment Sideswipe was glad of his 'brothers' absence. He was going to hate this very organic and very wet world.

The amount of aerial traffic had surprised Sideswipe, he had been aware this planet had been dead when they had arrived but something had happened while they were... asleep was the term Wheeljack had used while explaining what to expect. What he had not expected was the electrical storm that swept by yesterday, and had briefly sent Sideswipe into a panic in the coverless environment, apart from the flimsy vegetation, until realising the rain that was falling was simple neutral water rather than the heavily acidic rain of Cybertron.

It had been a week since the available warriors had gathered around the Ark's new entrance to farewell Goldbug. The first day he had had regular communication as Trailbreaker bugged him far too often for updates of the outside world, until Jazz had thankfully shut him up with the EmCom discipline. Although by the sounds coming up the mountain, Trailbreaker was now going to grace him with his physical presence. Which was more boring, a communication from Trailbreaker, or a visitation from Trailbreaker? At least a communication could be cut off.

Into view bounced the blocky black shape of Trailbreaker's vehicle mode. If it was possible for Trailbreaker to find an even graceless alternate mode than the one he had had before, then this was it. Every corner of his vehicular body was close to square, and must have had all the aerodynamic efficiency of Huffer’s head, even supposing his motive power units could propel him through this planet thick atmosphere to make aerodynamic shape matter, although Sideswipe did notice, with a twinge of jealousy, he negotiated the rugged terrain with far more success than Sideswipe who had had to walk over half the distance to this summit.

"Enjoying the vegetation?" Trailbreaker was annoyingly cheerful.

"Yeah, that is just what is occupying my attention. Since there is not anything else to occupy my attention."

"Do not go asking for trouble, we have little capacity to cope with it." Some of Sideswipes frustrations bubbled to the surface at this cheery admonishment.

"And why not? Is Jazz leading us as a fighting unit or as a hunting club?"

"Jazz is doing his best, but we have no senior commanders to think strategically..."

"Scrap strategy. Find Megatron and scrap him. It is very simple to me." Trailbreaker did not immediately reply, pausing as if considering Sideswipes words.

"Tell me about what the passive sensors have picked up." At least Trailbreaker had lost his air of cheerful idiocy and seemed to be taking things more seriously.

"Large amount of aerial traffic, more than you led me to believe. Four columns of ground vehicles have passed along the nearby major trail, all painted a colour so drab Sunstreaker would frag them on general principle. Without some indication of how things work here I can't tell you how normal that is. No Decepticons in the vicinity. Ravage or possibly Laserbeak could be in the area, but anyone else and I would have them cold with a missile breaching their armour before you wasters could think of responding to a back-up call." The black canopied Toyota Hi-Lux just sat and absorbed the information for a moment. Sideswipe was aware he was speaking more like his brother than he did normally, but the situation and his role in it was frustrating him.

"I am not convinced that that is not bad news. We have not had much chance to gather intelligence, but one thing; the military of this world like to wear drab green. Were these columns drab green?"

"Yes." Sideswipe dragged the word out while speculations raced through his mind. Surely these humans could not pose a threat to them? How?

"Have you seen any columns of vehicle that were not drab green in colour?"

"No. Anything else moving about has appeared to be individual vehicles."

"Remember they have a ridiculous weight of numbers advantage over us. Maybe they will come to believe the sacrifice of their lives is worth the cost of easing their fears of the unknown. And there is Megatron."

"There is always Megatron." Sideswipe paused, following that thought through. "He could be out there filling the locals’ heads with garbage about us." Again Trailbreaker lapsed into contemplative silence, not responding to Sideswipes words.

"This is not good," the black SUV eventually said, mostly to himself it appeared as the voice was barely audible. Surely Trailbreaker had not started talking to himself?

"Have Wheeljack and Ratchet revived any more Autobots yet or even decided on any?" Sideswipe just said the first thing that came into his head rather than listen to Trailbreaker's thoughts aloud.

"No nothing. Why? Are you missing Sunstreaker that badly?" Trailbreaker perked up a little with the opportunity to stir the friendly antagonism most of the warrior group held to the antics of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

"Not in the slightest. The fragging blowhard would be scratching himself raw in an environment like this and he would probably sit in an oil bath continuously until someone gave him a Decepticon to hit." Sideswipe paused, softening his words. “Any messages from Goldbug?” Goldbug was annoying too, but the little Autobot had pluck, racing off on his own on a mission that Jazz could not even fully define.

“No nothing. But we would only expect something if it was urgent.” For a moment these two Autobots with next to nothing in common shared the same thoughts.

It was Trailbreaker who broke the reverie. He briefly wished Sideswipe well and started to retreat back along the broken path he had just ascended. While the Ark was in a protected position visually, once nearby there was little disguising the sheer size of it. How do you disguise a broken crashed starship? Who could disguise a broken crashed starship?


	13. Enter The Bumblebee

A thousand different insects chirped in the cool summer evening. A paper boy rode past delivering evening papers. Cars came and went from a hundred suburbia driveways, people arriving home from work, people driving to and from shops, picking up and dropping off children at school or sports or other leisure pursuits. People walked, people jogged, people strolled hand in hand, people exercised dogs, and people watered front lawns.

Parked amongst all of this activity Goldbug tried and failed to make sense of it. Eventually he dismissed it. Trying to catalogue it was making his head hurt. He continued to wait. Two days ago, after four days driving and attempting to make investigations he had plucked up the courage to ask one of these humans in an odd version of their language for a map. It took four people before one human dug through the larger of two shoulder mounted bags it had been carrying and tossed a folded road map in one of Goldbug’s windows. The human had then looked around the background as if looking for someone observing their conversation.

While Goldbug might not have been aware of what Candid Camera meant he was still being cautious of observation. After six hours driving around Seattle and inspecting signs Goldbug had determined how the map worked and should be oriented. Matching against the data that accompanied the image Ratchet supplied, Goldbug turned south heading for the next city, one on the other side of a significant border of some kind.

Goldbug had had to beg for another map in this next city of Salem only it took around a dozen people to find one friendly enough to even consider communicating with the Autobot.

"Excuse me." The human peered over at Goldbug. This one was a little shorter than average but was brightly dressed, wearing a riot of mismatched fabric armour over the flesh underneath. She also had a long flowing mane of some kind of very fine yellow decorative animal fur that hung just below its shoulders.

"Yes?"

"Can you help me I need a map of this city to find a particular road." The human altered its facial expression in what Goldbug assumed was a smile.

"Wait here."

"I am not going anywhere."

"Oh-kaay," it said more hesitantly and walked quickly away, heading towards a man standing behind a counter that was covered in multitudes of flimsy parchment publications. The creature was quickly back and grabbed Goldbug's door handle. For a moment Goldbug did not release the locking mechanism on his passenger side door, but decided that with his energon supplies dwindling faster than he expected he needed the help more desperately than prudence would normally allow.

"Here you go," it said after opening the door and tossing the map on the passenger seat. The map was folded and Goldbug could not read the internal pages. This was going to be troublesome.

"Could you unfold it for me?" The human said nothing for a moment before bending over and spreading the map open. It then reconsidered, picking up the map and climbing into the passenger seat and dumping the map on the drivers seat.

"So why am I playing with a map for you?" The voice was chirpy for one of these humans and analysis of its voice patterns showed a smooth delivery with any apparent stress being applied, as far as Goldbug could tell. Despite the oddness of the situation this human seemed relaxed.

"Because I am lost in this strange place and I am trying to find someone I have an address for."

"Oregon is a strange state," said the human. "You know you have a sexy voice and I'm just dying to meet the man who owns a yellow Beetle.” There was a brief pause as if the human considered some new thought. “You're not… gay are you?"

"I like to think I am cheerful."

Eventually Goldbug had insisted he had to go and find his destination. The human insisted it was heading in that direction and insisted on wanting to meet the owner of a remote control ‘Beetle’. Goldbug eventually decided she meant that was the name of his alt mode. The human panicked initially when Goldbug finally drove off but was soon accustomed to the ride and providing directions through Salem’s suburbs. It introduced itself as Carly Winters. Goldbug aware suddenly that he was supposed to reciprocate with a two word name introduced himself as Goldbug Witwicky, stealing the name from the data he held as he gradually learned to read the language. When Carly then asked if he was Jewish, Goldbug decided not answering might be a good policy until he found out what a ‘Jewish’ was.

When they arrived at the address, Goldbug implied he was inside at the address indicated and waited in the street parked in front of the next house, while a nervous but clearly curious Carly walked to the door. The driveway had been filled with two other vehicles, the larger one looked like it was designed for transporting cargo, yet despite its humble role, it had paintwork that would make Sunstreaker frown with envy, had it been yellow rather than a metallic maroon. The smaller one was unpainted and looked incomplete with several holes in the outer shell and a hollow interior.

Carly had reached the door and another human had come to the doorway, which was finely latticed but did not open it. It was not the human in Ratchets image. The decorative fur was the wrong colour to begin with. There appeared to be an animated discussion forming. Goldbug retuned his audio sensors to better pick up the conversation.

“I can assure you there is no-one here called ‘Goldbug’ but we are Witwickys. I’m Spike and I’m delighted to meet one so gorgeous as you. Would you please come in and have a coffee and tell me about this Goldbug?” At this point the lattice door opened and ‘Spike’ was gesturing inside. Carly wasn’t moving.

“Could you tell me who does live here?”

“Well, my dad and my brother Buster live here.” Buster. Goldbug decided that could be the pronunciation for the word next to Witwicky and quickly fired his engine, moving rapidly forward turning into the driveway. Amplifying his speakers he called to Carly who promptly apologised to the human at the door and jogged back towards Goldbug. Its face was set in an ugly expression, which Goldbug decided was anger. The human at the door stood where he was a scratched his head while another figure pushed past.

“Listen Goldbug,” Carly put emphasis on the name as though he didn’t deserve the honour of it, “I’m sick of these games I’m a long way from home and I demand an explanation.” The second human at the door matched the photo. Goldbug took a risk.

“Buster!” The second human jumped at Goldbug’s call, his face shifting through a myriad of expressions, before walking slowly towards Goldbug and Carly.

“Do you know what this game is about?” Carly was obviously getting agitated and the concept of being ignored, by all except Spike that is, frustrating.

“Is this another talking car?” Buster’s voice was filled with trepidation.

“Another? You have met another one like me?”

“Yes. No. Sort of. I think so. He’s in the garage.” Buster struggled for the right answer.

“What’s going on here, are you all weird?” asked an increasingly exasperated Carly as a third figure, heavier set the other two was walking over towards the commotion.

“I think we need to continue this conversation indoors,” said the new human. “If I move the truck can you drive into the garage?” A vehicle sized door was opening in the building with another vehicle visible beyond. This last human climbed about the cargo vehicle and made an opening for Goldbug to drive through inside, followed by Buster, Carly and Spike. The third human walked inside behind Spike and pressed something beside the doorway, triggering the rolling door slowly closed. The room was cluttered and large enough to contain both Goldbug and another vehicle with plenty of space besides. The space was filled with clutter, and a lot of tools made to fit the small hands of the flesh people. There was the strangest feeling of familiarity about it the other vehicle.

“Would you like to explain yourself?” said the senior of the three newcomers as he folded his arms in a defiant gesture.

“I deceived you Carly, my name is not Goldbug Witwicky, just Goldbug. Could you please stand back against the other vehicle? I need some room.”

“What for?” said the new figure, but Carly, Buster and Spike moved back nonetheless. Goldbug pushed and stretched mentally and before four shocked expressions, changed.

In his warrior mode Goldbug could not stand so he lay on his back and rolled to the left while the other figure walked around from behind his head. Carly had squealed and jumped, grabbing the nearest person, which to Spike’s disgust happened to be Buster, while Buster’s face changed colour, becoming noticeably lighter in hue.

“Oh my god,” mumbled Buster. He started to collapse with his buckling knees not helped at all by the additional weight of Carly as she leaned against him. The pair suddenly collapsed in an undignified heap as limbs appeared to spread in all directions. Despite their own emotional state Spike and the other figure laughed although both quickly regained their composure. Carly and Buster disentangled with Carly standing up again, ignoring Spike’s proffered hand. Buster stayed seated, continuing to stare at Goldbug.

"Wow! You look like a great walking Bumblebee," Carly exclaimed, the reality sinking in quickly, fear giving way to excitement.

From his own reclined position, Goldbug pointed at Buster.

“You were at our ship and saw us.” Buster just nodded.

"My name is Goldbug, this is Carly Winters," Goldbug waved in Carly's direction for the benefit of the others. "She assisted me in finding Buster Witwicky from an image we recorded while you were in our wrecked spaceship."

"Our leader, Optimus Prime went missing just after our surgeon Ratchet saw you in our ship. We had hoped you might know something about what happened to Optimus Prime."

"That was the name the head used," exclaimed Spike, momentarily tearing his stare away from Carly.

"What head? Prime is here?" Goldbug, suddenly excited, sat up and put his head through the plasterboard ceiling, sending clouds of powdered plaster into the garage.

"Hey! What the hell did you do that for?" the third figure after looking daggers at Spike turned his angered gaze at Goldbug as he demolishing the garage ceiling. Ducking once more Goldbbug faced the third figure.

"Where is Prime?" There was a pause with everyone looking at the still to be named figure. He uncrossed his arms and sighed heavily.

"My name is Sparkplug Witwicky, my two sons you apparently know. When Buster returned after apparently meeting you, well you better see this."

"Dad," Buster started to say something holding out an arm but wavered into silence under the gaze of four pairs of eyes. Buster was still seated on the floor of the garage. Spike extended his own hand and help Buster to his feet.

"You're acting a bit weird bro. You OK?" Spike attempted to ask his brother quietly. Goldbug's hearing picked up the query just fine.

"There's a twelve foot robot in our garage and you think I'm acting weird?"

"OK, OK, just askin'"

"Buster would you pop the hood?" asked Sparkplug from up front of Buster Jeep. Goldbug was trying to manoeuvre his body around the garage without taking out more plasterboard ceiling with his helmet horns. It was not easy as his feet had been at the hood end of Buster's Wrangler after transforming.

With the latch released Sparkplug pushed up the hood and but the stay in place.

"Optimus!" Goldbug only half heard his own strangled gasp. The site of his revered leader and mentor melded into the side of a ancient oil driven mechanical engine was almost too much for Goldbug. Sparkplug connected a pair of leads, and the blue eyes lit up.

 

"Optimus! Are you well?" Goldbug slipped into his own language for ease of communication and to help Prime whose translation of human language can not have had as much run time devoted to it. Goldbug immediately sent Optimus an update file for translation.

"Goldbug?"

"Yes sir," the scratchy sound of Optimus voice issuing from the small magnetic speakers in the vehicle threatened to overwhelm Goldbug. The little Autobot had always looked up to some of the senior Autobots with a bit of hero worship, and seeing Optimus like this was not doing wonders for Goldbug's mental state.

"How are the troops?"

"Prowl was wounded during the Ark's liberation. He will be OK, eventually. Most of the crew are being kept in stasis because of a lack of energon supplies. Jazz is leading a group of five restoring Teletran and the Ark and trying to create an energon supply or source, with Sideswipe holding a beacon at the hatch.”

"Now wait a second, I need to know about what you are doing here." Sparkplug was getting impatient while the Autobots spoke amongst themselves.

"I have to get Optimus back to the Ark," said Goldbug, his voice full of concern for his leader’s predicament.

"You're not taking Buster's Jeep. Separate them here," challenged Sparkplug defiantly. Buster was looking on almost timidly while Spike's eyes roamed from face to face. Carly still clung to one of Buster's arms.

"I need my Jeep for work on Monday," added Buster, feeling as if he should assert himself more into the discussion.

"The excursion will not take long," reassured Optimus Prime's scratchy voice. "One of my team as one of the best battlefield surgeons I have ever come across. Ratchet would restore both me and your vehicle very quickly. Additionally, you could not leave me here forever. You would have to face my presence here eventually. Would it not be better to do so on favourable terms?"

 

"Buster?" Only now with a decision imminent did Sparkplug turn to Buster. Until now the veteran mechanic had felt to need to protect his somewhat shaken son, but Buster realised he would have to step in and take responsibility for his own predicament. Buster looked across at his brother and his father. Then glanced at the girl by his side, who was looking up into his face trying to read his features.

"Dad, can you take a day off work?"

"Alright," said the enthusiastic Spike.

"Spike this is not your problem," said Sparkplug, the protective parent again.

"How can you tell me to walk away from something like this? Real life alien beings from another world."

"Alien?" said Goldbug, perplexed at having his perceptions turned on him.

"Ms Winters?"

"I'm going wherever my Bumblebee goes. I’m not leaving this story half told."

"Great, I can accompany you while Dad and Buster talk with Optimiser."

"Optimus Prime," corrected Goldbug.

"Spike, you're coming with me in the Jeep," said Sparkplug. Buster was quietly thankful at Sparkplug’s thoughtfulness. That last thing he needed was to listen to Spike try and ‘pick up’ Carly for the next few hours. "I don’t think we should travel together in populated areas.”

“A commendable precaution,” added the strange voice from the Jeep. “Goldbug, can you contact the Ark?”

“Yes, but Jazz suggested only in an emergency. I have yet to make a transmission since leaving The Ark.”

“We'll leave first and meet up with you at the outskirts on the highway north. We don't know who else is looking for these two."

Preparations were quickly made as the Witwickys grabbed what pre-packaged food was in the house and loaded up the Wrangler and Goldbug, now returned to Volkswagen mode.

Both garage doors were open and Spike backed out Buster’s Wrangler out into the darkened skies of the early hours of the morning.

“Wait half an hour, then follow. And don’t fall asleep.” Sparkplug issued Buster a final instruction while Carly dozed quietly in the passenger seat of Goldbug, wearing one of Buster's jackets to ward off the pre-dawn chill. It was approaching 3AM and Carly had started tripping over things in fatigue an hour ago.

“Sure Dad.” Buster looked across at the driver, a measure of his self-confidence returning. “If you scratch my Jeep, I’m selling your Datsun to pay for it.” Spike grinned but did not return the threat. Then the metallic blue four wheel drive was gone, headed out of the subdivision and heading for the nearest arterial road. A dark coloured van passed them heading in the other direction. As Goldbug backed out on to the driveway with the still dozing Carly aboard, Buster noticed a second dark coloured Chevrolet van up the street. A thought rattled around loosely in Buster's tired brain, but staring at the van it refused to connect. He turned towards the garage doors to close them; already thinking of the thermos of coffee perched inside Goldbug.

 

Spike swore briefly and veered further to the right of the road as a large dark van chopped across their nose at the intersection heading deeper into the subdivision.

"Hold a moment Spike."

"Is something concerning you Sparkplug?" The deep voice from the speakers was more subdued than before almost as if the alien was aware of some need for stealthy behaviour.

"Two identical dark coloured vans. Maybe I've been watching too many movies but I don't like that. Could it be that Goldbug was being followed? Have you guys made any enemies since you've been here?"

"I do not believe the Autobots have had sufficient time to develop any ill feeling, however your authorities may not be able differentiate between Autobots and Decepticons."

"Deception what? How many of you are there?"

"For the present I think it best that you did not know that until we know each other better. We came here on a mission of the utmost urgency and time is not a luxury I can afford."

 

Buster screwed the cap back onto the top of the thermos and held one steaming cup of coffee near Carly's face. Her nose twitched in her sleep. Carly Winters was certainly a looker and Buster found himself relaxing in her presence, despite the apparent alienness of their surroundings. Buster judged her a shade under five foot five. Beneath an impressive mane of blond curly tresses was a slightly round face with prominent jaw line that verged on masculine. She had the slim look, and the mismatched riot of colours typical of student clothing and despite the shapelessness of the clothes it appeared she had an attractive physique. The steaming coffee brought her fully awake with a yawn and gratefully accepted the cup.

"Don't spit in it, there's only the one cup. I didn't know how Goldbug would react to car litter."

"That will need an explanation. I am still translating your language."

"He'd never get stains out of upholstery." Carly smiled.

"If it is upholstery," Buster added with mock seriousness. Carly paused and stared at Buster before facing the dashboard.

"Bumblebee is that..."

"Nothing like that. I think. What is upholstery?" asked the puzzled robot, who chose that moment to fire his motor and back up the drive. "It is time we left after Optimus."

 

Buster looked out the window and saw one of the dark vans. The glass was tinted so he could not see in the cabin windows but his trained eye noticed the chassis sat lower than it should. But vans were always carrying heavy loads. It was not a good idea though to leave a loaded truck in the street overnight, lest a thief with a trained eye decide to steal it.

Buster turned for one look back at the house the Witwicky men had inhabited these last five years and wondered how he would return. A pretty girl at his side riding in an alien car, things could scarcely be different from a week ago.

"How did you come by a name like Buster?" asked Carly, turning her attention away from her 'Bumblebee' for a moment.

"It’s a mechanics tradition to nickname each other. I just finished my apprenticeship. My real name is Brent."

"Brent," Carly repeated. "I actually think I prefer Buster. Any reason for it?"

"I keep busting tools," said Buster sheepishly.

"I'm sorry I asked." Carly smiled through her sleepy eyes. Buster liked the smile.

"I am going to try calling the Ark now, to let them know we are coming." Goldbug interrupted the reverie as the exited the suburban subdivision and started driving past an industrial estate. Buster noticed a roar in left ear and suddenly one of the dark vans raced up alongside before chopping across Goldbug's nose. The sliding door slid back as a second van appeared from behind, cutting off their retreat. Several dark clad figures holding rifles emerged from the vans. Some clutched large satchels and tossed them underneath Goldbug's wheels.

"Carly," Buster's voice carried an urgency that the girl could not help but respond to. Several rifles were trained in at towards Goldbug’s windows. Buster suddenly worried if aliens made bullet proof glass.

"Attention alien." The amplified voice that burst forth was not loud, but it was clear. "You will surrender into our custody immediately. You will not assume another shape, but you will indicate your surrender by voice or by flashing your headlights."

"What did they throw underneath you Goldbug?" Buster had some dangerous suspicions.

"Surrender or we will detonate the satchel charges."

"Explosives Goldbug."

"I doubt they could harm me. However you and those troops would probably be harmed. I will do what they say, but I have a plan. Buster, Carly, never doubt my word. It may look bad but it will be the best for all of us."

"I trust you Bumblebee." Carly's voice was firm, and gave Buster the courage to place himself in Goldbug's hands.

"Do what you need to do Goldbug."

After a long pause, Goldbug flashed his headlamps.

 

"I thought you knew the way to the interstate?"

"Well maybe you should have driven." Spike and Sparkplug had been sitting at an intersection just before an on ramp to a major arterial road. The sign though was missing and road works covered the area as land was being resumed for an additional lane of traffic.

"Take the on ramp and we'll figure it out from there. No wait." Sparkplug saw another dark van and a dark coloured sedan sat at the next intersection to their left on the other side of the flyover bridge on which sat the arterial road Spike and Sparkplug had been arguing over. It had been sitting there all the time they had been arguing Sparkplug realised.

"Spike, pretend we're still arguing but watch that van." As Sparkplug spoke, the van was moving, turning right towards the blue Wrangler.

"Spike when I say so, gun it and flick around and head for the off ramp heading south." It was a near 180 degree turn around, but if timed right would leave the van behind them, facing in the wrong direction.

"Goldbug is in trouble," the speakers said softly. Sparkplug cursed as the van moved into position while in the distance the sedan had not moved.

"Now." Spike planted his right foot and the Wrangler leapt forward across the intersection turning left, passing the van in the opposite direction. The sedan took off in a squeal of tyres and charged towards the on ramp in the oncoming traffic lanes. The sedan got there first squealing to a halt and skidding the tail of the car outwards trying to block traffic, but Spike was already turning heading towards the off ramp exit. Sparkplug could see Spike had not turned sharply enough and would strike the nose of the sedan.

"Hold on," yelled Spike and Sparkplug silently apologised to Buster. There was a jarring impact then the four wheel drive bashed downwards and across the sedans nose, the Wrangler's heightened suspension allowing Spike to partially climb over the car with a sickening lurch. Spike straightened the Jeep and stormed up the off ramp, headlights ablaze on high beam against the flow of the thankfully non-existent traffic. Sparkplug turned and looked damage. The sedan was moving again but steam was already venting from the ruptured radiator. The driver shut the car down, perhaps realising pursuit would be too brief in a car about to lose its engine. Spike flicked the wheel hard right at the top of the ramp and charged off down the freeway, heading south. The van had not backed up in time to pop into Sparkplug's vision before Spike turned. They were safe for the moment. But how was the Jeep?

"How does the right front feel Spike?"

"Doesn't feel punctured," said a shaky sounding Spike. Spike tested the car, after stepping of the accelerator for a moment he wrenched the wheel back and forth to test the steering and suspension to see if the car felt different. Spike quickly straightened and was back on the gas again.

"Shall I take over driving? I think we can stop for a second to change over."

"Let's press on Dad." There was a crackle in the speakers, the familiar prelude to Optimus Prime's voice bursting forth.

"Goldbug has directed us to go to the meeting place you suggested Sparkplug but we will be met by someone else. Goldbug will try and safeguard Buster and Carly as much as possible." Optimus Prime's voice carried caution.

"Safeguard from what?" asked Spike forcefully.

"More vans." said Sparkplug ominously. "Don't slow down Spike. Did Goldbug say anymore?"

"No. He had to contact the Ark. Now he is not answering my messages."

"Dad, what does it mean?" Both Sparkplug and Optimus Prime remained silent, hoping their friends and family could handle whatever trouble had befallen them.

"Not now son. Just drive." Sparkplug started thinking of ways to head back north again, looking ahead for an underpass or cloverleaf to head back in the intended direction. All the while Sparkplug resisted the temptation to grab the steering wheel from Spike, spun the Jeep around and race back in the direction they had come, looking for a son he did not expect to find and potentially placing himself and Spike back into the arms of the assailants they had only just avoided. He was going to have to trust and hope.


	14. Gunpoint Diplomacy

A robot vehicle was slowly winding its way up the track in the Cascade Ranges that had been blazed by loggers and later by Frenzy and Rumble during the brief period the Decepticons commanded the Ark. This robot was not a Decepticon, or even an Autobot. This device was a graceless concoction of parts, necessary to perform only the most basic of functions. It had no Spark, no Machine Life, no independent mind of its own; its operating system was at the other end of a radio link three kilometres away.

The tank-treaded bomb control robot continued its slow march uphill towards where the Ark was supposed to be. The satellite photograph indicated it should be in sight, but it was not. Its operator leaned back in his chair.

"I'm sorry sir we should be able to see it but we can't." The army Corporal toggled a top mounted camera back and forth, showing a static filled view of the wooded track in black and white. There was no sign of the large object which had shown up in the low level satellite photo taken two days ago, an object which had not appeared on the photo taken only twelve hours ago.

General Stewart, with Major Yates at his side, watched from behind as an infantry Colonel looked over the Corporal's shoulder into the monitor. Stewart watched a repeater built into the next section of the command and control vehicle for the Army munitions disposal team. Outside the sealed environment of the armoured car sat a myriad of olive drab painted vehicles, foremost amongst them a platoon of the newly built M1A1 Abrams tanks.

Stewart's initial report to the Army hierarchy had been received with alarmed caution within the military services, however the political leadership was still in a state of panic over the issue and refused to be mollified, even after the alterations Stewart had made to reality in the record of his deliberations with Megatron. Several figures within the military oversight committees had reacted badly to the concept of highly armed rogue elements wondering the countryside without ways or means to prevent them. To some of the Senators and Congressmen on Defence related committees that had had to be told by law, these aliens represented anarchy. Politicians by nature are allergic to anarchy. Stewart did not want to comprehend what the religious community would make of them, but one SIU team, complete with it's own Lutheran Priest, was looking into scenarios. Stewart had yet to sight a report from them.

President Robinson, by contrast, had been considerably more level headed than Stewart expected and had brought the more upset Senators and Congressmen in line. Although some were muttering, there would be no leaks to the press. Yet. Leaks were another thing that senior politicians were allergic to, yet junior politicians took perverse joy in their proliferation.

The Corporal started the robot going forward again, moving almost up to the very edge of where the track ended. The camera view blurred as it appeared to lose focus at the same time the Corporal leaned forward over his control console with increased concentration.

"Sir, the robot is no longer making forward progress. As far as I can tell the tread are turning but it is getting no traction."

"Something IS there," mused the infantry Colonel. Without turning towards General Stewart he raised a radio to his lips and spoke.

"Captain Vincennes, get the recon platoon moving." The radios speaker crackled an acknowledgement.

"So what happens here, sir?" asked the Colonel without turning to address Stewart.

"Hopefully, Colonel, we make contact, they don't shoot, we don't shoot and then we engage in diplomacy."

"Do you hold any expectations I should be made aware of?" This time the Colonel did turn away from the monitor. Stewart arched a barely visible eyebrow in the low light of the command vehicle, but made no additional comment. One of the Rangers involved in the encounter with the Decepticons had been killed, his neck snapped from a blow from the animalistic robot. This time the Army had insisted on a larger show of force than Stewart's preferred option of a small team. As a result, Stewart felt less in control and was more pessimistic about the potential outcome. While Stewart had every faith in the Colonel's ability to do his job as he saw it, Stewart just could not trust his motives. Increasingly Stewart felt he could trust fewer and fewer people, and had at times pondered whether this tendency may ever shift, if it hadn't already, from prudence to paranoia.

Not helping that situation in the slightest was when in the early hours of the morning, a bright red Lamborghini scorched down the forest trail, taking the assembling troops completely by surprise as the big Italian sports car scrabbled for grip on a surface any Lamborghini owner would be reduced to tears over, if forced to watch their pride and joy being driven in such a fashion. The car headed towards the interstate and had been sighted by other Army units heading south at dangerous speeds. The Police had been completely unable to pursue or road block the fleeing vehicle. No-one knew where the car was now as it had been lost crossing the border into Oregon whilst traffic cops had a border dispute.

As the recon platoon disappeared into the scrub on either side of the road, with one of his own SIU Captains along to advise, but not to lead, Stewart was forced to be content to wait on developments.

"Colonel, check all armoured vehicles have their engines running. If things go badly the recon platoon will be rapidly overcome." The Colonel looked at Stewart and nodded, but took no additional action, trusting his unit commanders to be ready, and sending the General his own message, is if to say, butt out of running my unit. Stewart could sympathise, but the stakes here were much higher than the responsibilities of a battalion commander.

 

"Jazz they're sending up a small group of troops for reconnaissance," reported the newly reactivated Hound. Hound was a useful asset to have. The combination of Hounds hologram rifle and Trailbreakers forcefield was successfully disguising the Ark for the moment, but Jazz had not counted on the humans persistence, or had realised Hounds hologram was not fooling the military satellite hundreds of kilometres above them. Hound was providing additional information as his alt mode was well adapted to the demands of the situation. Wheeljack had been able to provide extra energon to enable Hounds activation at Trailbreaker's insistence with some collectors near a geothermal heat source. It was inefficient but in a stop-gap situation it was working.

Wheeljack now stood in the alternate entrance way to the Ark created by a gap between the rock and the hull, next to Jazz and behind Trailbreaker who was concentrating on maintaining a forcefield that was holding the strange automaton from penetrating Hound's hologram. It was another inefficient stop-gap that was working. But sooner rather than later Trailbreaker would have to relax his forcefield and/or take on more energon.

Sooner or later Jazz was going to have to confront these humans and defuse this situation. They did have a surprise however.

"We are going to have to talk to them," said Wheeljack, voicing Jazz thoughts.

"I know. Maybe I am just hoping Prime will come back and instantly make things better. This is not as easy as it looks." Wheeljack looked at his younger friend with sympathy his masked face could not show. Jazz had real talent to be an Autobot of the future, but he still had a lot of experience to gather. The engineer turned back to the straining Trailbreaker.

"Can you keep out their ground troops?"

"Yes, but they will realise that an energy field is there." Wheeljack turned to Jazz who nodded grimly.

"Hound, do not reply, but proceed at your discretion."

 

"Sir there is something I do not quite understand..." the communication from the infantry Lieutenant was suddenly interrupted and the three officers tensed.

"Excuse me sir, this is Captain Knopfler. There is a three-dee solid hologram erected across the path, and that is what is blocking the bomb robots progress." Stewart stepped forward and leant across the Corporal's seat, press a button as he did.

"Captain I'm coming up to join you directly. Excuse me Colonel, but don't engage without my permission. Major, if you could liaise with the Colonel." Without waiting for a reply Stewart stepped out of the command trailer and headed straight for the nearest Jeep. Stewart climbed aboard the door-less utility vehicle, hand automatically reaching for an ignition key that had not changed location in over 30 years of Jeep production. And yet the key was not there. Nor was Jeep wearing the correct insignia for this unit. As Stewart started to lift his left leg to climb out of a suddenly suspicious car, a voice issued from the cars speakers.

"It is time we had a discussion General Stewart. I would advise against climbing from the vehicle as we will soon be on our way." The gear lever to Stewart’s right moved of its own accord and the Jeep, with an engine note flatter than any other Jeep he had driven, took off smartly up the hill without a hint of clutch slip or wheel spin. The dark green Chrysler moved rapidly up the track, more rapidly than Stewart himself would have driven, but was steering with rock steady vehicle control over the dirt and rocks. Approaching the troops, and the cliff face, in the middle of the path the Jeep did not slow down in the slightest and headed straight for the rock wall. As the soldiers dived out of the Jeeps path, Stewart looked upwards as the cliff approached, and started to prepare to bail out of the out of his control vehicle, but he was too slow and the world suddenly went black.


	15. Rehabilitation

A lot of Decepticons did not like Rehabilitation Chambers. The sometimes long periods of inactivity could send some into frustrated stress, interspersed with tantrums to release the pressure. For others it was worse and could threaten their sanity.

Thundercracker knew he was in the minority of while not actually enjoying it, the idle time he could spend easily on flights of fantasy, contemplation or more analytical pursuits. Not that Thundercracker was a great thinker. But the time allowed him to examine his thoughts and motivations, and create doubt over his chosen calling in life. In so far that it was a choice. He was created a Seeker and Seekers killed Autobots. For the most part, Thundercracker’s life was that simple.

Thundercracker had noticed in the past you could sense presences in a chamber induced coma. Most had seemed vaguely intimidating or menacing and Thundercracker had speculated about those whose spark had been lost within that particular chamber. This chamber felt different, there were no presences of any kind, but the Decepticon flyer could sense a large.... something. It felt as though it was blocking something, something important.

Thundercracker explored the... something, probing and pushing in ways he was not sure he was actually doing. He searched for an edge, a sense of purchase, something to perceive. It was like a cloudy black wall in the dark nothingness. Thundercracker researched his own memories of times he felt the featherlike but still intrusive touch of Soundwave when the communicator was attempting to read his thoughts.

There was no sense of time passing in this strange limbo place of healing. It could have been days, it could have been years but somehow Thundercracker found a way to PUSH. Thundercracker kept pushing, looking for a weak spot. Without warning the wall shattered and Thundercracker suddenly felt a vague tingling in his neck and the right side of his head.

It was at that moment Thundercracker realised he had not felt the presence of the medical nanomites, healing his body from whatever wound he had received, completing the work the surgeon’s knife had begun. He could not remember why he was in the chamber but that mattered not. But now with the wall gone he could feel the chamber doing its work.

And he could feel another presence where the wall had been. There had been times Thundercracker thought he might have recognised some of his fellow Seekers, Skywarp, or Sunstorm or Scourge. This time, more than ever before, he felt a personality in the presence.

"Greetings." Thundercracker could sense the surprise in the presence.

"Greetings." The voice was softly spoken and indistinct, as if distant. It was not a voice Thundercracker could immediately identify, and in this strange state he was cut off from the more analytic aspects of his thought processes, his mind dulled by the medical chamber. "I was not aware this could be done," the other, near inflectionless voice continued. "I can not recognise your voice. Who is that?"

"Thundercracker. I do not recognise yours either. Who is there?" There was a long silence, as the presence seemed to withdraw from Thundercracker. "Are you still there?"

"I do not think we will have much to converse about Decepticon." The sentence was terse and abrupt. Autobot! Thundercracker's rage built and he PUSHED at the indistinct presence as some method of striking out at his enemy. If his 'attack' had any effect Thundercracker could not tell.

Rage subsided into a wary puzzlement. Plainly it was an Autobot he could sense, but whom? Was he in an Autobot RH chamber? Or was the Autobot in a Decepticon chamber? Peering through his own foggy mind the Decepticon recalled his most recent memories were on the Autobot ship and being ordered to fetch some Autobot corpses. He must have been attacked and he was in an Autobot infirmary. If an Autobot was here, then they must control the infirmary.

It meant the blue Seeker had had his wings clipped by Autobot captivity. Thundercracker raged again and tried to PUSH in the Autobot’s direction, or what he thought of as the Autobot’s direction, again.

"Are you trying to get my attention for a reason Decepticon?" the voice floated back in his direction. Thundercracker whaled away at his impotence with his enemy so close. The rage ebbed as soon as it built however.

"I was trying to attack you Autobot. It seems your device is holding us both from each other." There was another pause.

"Here you are as safe as you would be in your own headquarters. Safer I would predict without the vagaries of Megatron's dictatorship."

"Leadership," corrected Thundercracker, although he could hear his voice lacking conviction despite the mental goop between them. He hoped his lack of confidence in Megatron was not transmitted to the Autobot. He was starting to get a feel for his enemy. His wording was formal for an Autobot, but not because of nervous inexperience. This Autobot was not intimidated by Thundercrackers bluster. He decided it was Jetfire, and was amused the mighty air warrior had been brought to such a level.

"Satisfy my curiosity Thundercracker, you are different from your fellow aerialists. Skywarp is an idiot and Starscream a megalomaniac schemer, but you do not fit a typical profile of Decepticon warrior.”

“I will still shoot you down next time we meet Jetfire,” blustered Thundercracker.

“I am not Jetfire, and you did not answer my question.”

“Why should I? Why do I have to justify to an Autobot ground hugger my belief in Megatron, in Starscream and in the Decepticon cause?” Thundercracker was getting increasingly annoyed with this line of questioning.

“Because you do not believe in it. Do not tell me your propaganda, tell me your truth.” And there it was. Some rubber encrusted fool of an Autobot had summed up what Thundercracker had been thinking for years.

“I…” Thundercracker started to reply with more propaganda about how the Autobots were holding the Decepticons from their rightful place in galactic affairs, but the Seeker had no interest in Decepticon politics. So what was Thundercracker’s truth?

“I love to fly and I love to fight. Starscream gives me that opportunity with regularity.” But Starscream now shut him out of Seeker affairs. Did his long standing friendship with Starscream no longer have any meaning? Was he now just a pawn to be discarded in Starscream’s power plays?

“We can give you that opportunity, and it would be towards a positive end goal.”

“Why is conquest not a positive end goal? Would it not bring its own peace?”

“Because conquest feeds upon itself.” There was a passion in the voice, discernable even through the viscous nature of the RH reality. “If Megatron conquered the Autobots he would feel restless and turn on his own, or set upon a new race and establish the need to conquer them. When would it end? How much is enough for Megatron?”

“Then I fly, I fight and I die, is that not so bad?” There was honour to be had on the battlefield after all was there not? The Seekers were a glorius squadron that had gathered much military history.

“Out here? Far from our home and lost in time? Do you know we were probably offline for tens of thousands, maybe even hundred of thousands of cycles?” Suddenly, at the Autobots prompting, an image was recalled, of a strange soft flesh bag creature, and the machine woven cloth armour it wore.

“Where is there honour in death here? Do you think Megatron will erect any standards to you should you fall here on this back flow of a world.” 

“Yes,” muttered Thundercracker slowly, not answering the Autobots question but his own. This place held no glory, no cutting through eternal night skies of Cybertron, bombs and laser falling from his wings to the ground. Exchanging fire with the few brave, but generally inadequate Autobot fliers.

“Join with us Thundercracker. Become part of the vision that could be the future of Cybertron, not a promise of a vista of death with your mangled unrecognisable corpse at its centre.” The debate paused for the longest time. The Autobots notion had its attraction; there would certainly still be many years worth of fighting and flying to come. Or would there? What did that small soft creature represent? Was the war at home over? Had either the Autobots or Decepticons fallen without their inspirational leaders? But Thundercracker still had questions. What of his own future?

“Tell me Autobot, would your fellows be as accepting of me as you claim you would?”

“I do not think so.” The reply was slow in coming, and slowly delivered. Thundercracker mentally gathered himself with one last question.

“So if I were to join you, for whatever reasons you choose, I would be fighting with people who would not trust me, who may not help me in battle, and may leave me behind, while I would be fighting the few friends I appear to have left, who would vengefully execute me if I fell into their grasp?”

“That would appear to be a likely scenario.”

“Then Autobot I can not join your faction. What you are offering, does not actually offer me anything other than a long term goal which I likely will not get to see, even if our world is even still relevant to our struggle. It would be well if we were to have no further interaction.”

“I am sorry for your plight.”

“As am I.” To Thundercracker’s view the chamber had become darker, and he would find no solace in its isolation as he once did. Maybe in time this decision would feel right to Thundercracker. But he doubted it.


	16. Submerged Construction

To be completely submerged in liquid was a very strange sensation. On Cybertron only liquid metals existed in such quantities that pools could be found, and then for obvious reason you did not want to be wading in them. It was cold down here in the depths of the this strange place, not space cold, but considerably colder than the surface of this alien world.

But the first thing Megatron had found different was the pressure. With little atmosphere on Cybertron and of course none in space, atmospheric pressure was a relatively new concept. Decepticon armour was designed around the ability to absorb and dissipate impacts. Against the constant unrelenting pressure of standing here on the sea bed was something completely different. Megatron was confident in his own ability to cope with the depth, and Skywarp had expressed no discomfort. His other companion Soundwave however was another matter. The blue Decepticons huge chest cavity in which he located his Cassetticons on occasion was now open to prevent the pressure of the clear fluid from caving in the hatch. As useful as Soundwave was as a communicator, loyal subordinate and a great aid in maintaining discipline, there was a streak of caution in the Decepticon which Megatron felt would forever limit his development as a warrior.

There was also no light down here. Nothing was emitting or reflecting and the light from the local star did no penetrate waters this deep. While they were effectively blind down here, for the moment there was nothing to see.

The three Decepticons waited patiently, in two cases anyway as Skywarp fiddled with his arms where his repeating blasters and machine guns were normally mounted. Their weapons would not function while immersed and both Skywarp and Soundwave were unarmed. Megatrons fusion cannon hung in place however on his right forearm. His weapon was sturdier than those carried by his companions and he would not leave a weapon so powerful in the custody of Starscream, even supposing the Squadron Commander could get past the security protocols to fire the weapon.

Starscream had insisted, near violently, on accompanying Megatron on this expedition, but one senior Decepticon had to stay on the surface in case some group action was necessary. Even poor leadership would be preferable to anarchy if something were to occur in his absence. But Starscream's behaviour continued to give Megatron greater thought that a commander of Starscream's seniority should.

Finally a light blinked ahead in the submerged gloom. Megatron fired his thrusters, strangely less effective down here, and starting moving through the water fluid.

The light emanated from a human submersible, small and specifically designed for the nitrogen breathers to operate at this depth, it was little more than an escape pod dressed up with primitive propeller propulsion. Megatron was becoming increasingly annoyed with the physical limitations of his potential allies and had vowed to break their alliance at first opportunity. They were barely worth the effort of exterminating them, but for the moment he still had need of them. He had yet to see one as big even as Soundwave's minions.

The human called General, which as far as Soundwave's linguistic efforts could tell was a word that meant 'everything' had said on the silica plains that a vessel fitting Nemesis description had been found years ago on the sea floor. Attempts by the humans to plunder its secrets had been mixed. There had been an accident the first time it was investigated and some deaths had been involved. A second military expedition had been more successful in finding some Decepticon artefacts which had been incorporated into the local war machines, but had been mostly beyond the reach of human scientists so it had been sealed until such a time that this faction of humans, could understand what they had found, and keep the discovery from rival factions, which seemed to litter the politics of this world.

General had arranged with some more of its kind to show Megatron where it was believed the remains of the Nemesis lay. This deep in the pressurised fluid Megatron was not optimistic of the vessels survival, but he had seen the condition of the Ark and anything had to be preferable. Perhaps some equipment had survived. A hyper-comm bouy would be an important find as it could allow communication to be restablished with Decepticon Command and Control.

Eventually the bright spotlights on the submersible picked out what Megatron struggled to in this most alien of environments, as large metallic objects, fragments to the Decepticons, appeared on the sea floor, including the drive section of the Nemesis. The hull was largely intact as the three Decepticons followed the human deep sea vessel along the fuselage. The bridge was in poor shape and completely flooded. Through the viewports of the vessel the lights of the submersible picked out a gaping hole on the far side of the Nemesis. Megatron turned towards his companions.

"Soundwave, order the humans back towards the assault hatch. Skywarp, get in there and report the condition of the ship without flooding it." After a few moments Megatron could acutely sense the vibrations from Skywarp's teleportation engines powering up. In the stygian gloom of the depths a roughly spherical Skywarp sized patch of water started boiling, even under the pressure of being this much closer to the gravity well. With a reverberating pop, Skywarp and a quantity of water vanished. The human submersible lost control as water rushed into the sudden vacuum created by Skywarp's absense. The DSRV was spinning its propellors madly but could do nought to avoid a collision with Soundwave. Soundwave gave little indication of the impact, but the human vessel started falling before it righted itself. Turning much slower now the damaged vessel turned and headed for the surface, taking the areas only light with it.

"Megatron, Humans report vessel compromised by collision. Returning to surface of fluid forthwith. No replacements available."

"We shall have to make our own light," said Megatron, holding up the barrell of the fusion cannon. Either the weapon would burn out from the fluid, which would be an easy repair, or it might provide some light. Holding the huge matt black tube aloft, Megatron started releasing energy at the wepons lowest setting, starting a glow which was frothing the water to boiling point.

"Skywarp report!"

 

Behind the assault hatch the thousands of gallons of water Skywarp had brought with him ran along the downward slope of the corridor to Skywarp's right. Over the years the hull and bulkheads had held. There was of course no power, and no light of any kind. Two powerful emitters started emitting infra red light from Skywarps visual sensors, painting a map of the surfaces of the room as Skywarp looked at them. There was a surprising amount of dishevelment for a vessel completely abandoned for thousands of years. Knowing the bridge to be compromised, Skywarp headed in the other direction, towards the drive section of the ship. He patched in a telemetry feed from his visual sensors to Soundwave, allowing the communicator to see what he saw, but refrained from providing any commentary on his surroundings.

There was ancient evidence of hasty patchwork repairs and scavenging of various kinds. There was a disarray of objects strewn about coated in a thin layer of dust that had somehow at some point penetrated the ship. Part way down the corridor he came across part of a body. Skywarp bent and crouched down to examine it.

"Is it Shockwave?" Megatron wanted to know.

"No, much too small. I do not know this one." Skywarp shifted his light emitters across the spectrum in an attempt to better identify the corpse. There was an angled half of a torso, two shoulders, a right arm and a head frozen in a rictus of agony.

"It is Viewfinder, reconnaissance specialist assigned to Styx region," stated Soundwave. "He works regularly in a Reflector team with Spyglass and Spectro." A data link appeared in Skywarps consciousness. Soundwave sent data that included mini-dossiers on the three Decepticons. They were not much bigger than Rumble and Frenzy in size. Skywarp wondered briefly why Soundwave knew so much.

"I do not remember any of these scroungers being on the Nemesis," commented Skywarp.

"Continue your search," growled Megatron, quickly impatient with the corpse and far more interested in the state of the ship. Skywarp knew little about ship functions so he just looked at things at the instruction of those unable to enter the ship.

Skywarp came across a compartment, the med bay, which had been sealed as unusable during the flight. The door had been shattered asunder, burst outwards by some force from within. Skywarp cautiously stuck his head through the remnants of the doorway, suddenly extremely conscious of the absence of his weapons, sitting in a pile on the surface with Starscream, of this strange vast liquid... Skywarp had no word for a pool that covered two thirds of this planet.

Within were the shattered remains of several hibernation/template chambers. Physical violence had clearly come into contact with the devices and parts were scattered all across the room and completely covered the floor, providing no footing for Skywarp that might not further damage the vital equipment that no-one had been aware was onboard. There was no way to tell quickly how many chambers had been in here, but Skywarp estimated more than five. If Soundwave had a better estimate he was keeping it to himself.

"You have all the information you need Megatron?" said the increasingly apprehensive Skywarp, keen for any excuse to vacate the Nemesis.

"The drive room, now." Skywarp was keen to leave. Humans could not have done that he thought, smashed things so heavy they could not possibly lift.

The wreckage appeared confined to the med-bay. Ignoring the other compartments Skywarp proceeded slowly towards the drive room. He needed another admonishment from Megatron before he even contemplated the doorway to the drive room. Skywarp sent a radio pulse to open the door. The door, centuries without power did not move.

"The door does not open."

"Either open it manually, teleport through it or I will blast my way in and blast a hole through you to get to the door." Megatron gave Skywarp little room for negotiation. Skywarp mentally shrugged and centred himself in front of the doorway. Bracing himself he swung and punched the centre of the door, the noise rang and echoed. He heard movement beyond the door in the Drive Room and was suddenly pleased to be strong enough to project force in such a manner.

"No you fool. Do you not know how to bypass a door manually?"

"I am a Seeker Lord Megatron. I fly fast, I shoot straight," regurgitated Skywarp, slipping into the Squadron motto. "Speed before power and seek glory for the Decepticon Army." An exasperated Megatron made incoherent noises and Skywarp thought he heard a great clash of metal on metal. On a sub-channel Soundwave started issuing technical instructions. Skywarp, unconsciously echoing what was done to him by Shockwave centuries ago, extruded a pair of power leads and plugged them into a socket on the door control sensor. Sending a pulse of power, the long abandoned door slid aside into the wall.

There were noises coming from inside. On the floor in the centre of the drive room were more Decepticon body parts, and one pain howling face frozen in death, staring back at Skywarp.

"I do not think I should enter," said Skywarp, suddenly very much conscious of his continued existance. "There is something wrong here." Skywarp's rampant imagination was starting to picture Grimlock hiding behind doors, Roadbuster standing still in the blackness revealing himself with movement, or Jetfire ready to take flight and dogfight. Skywarp tried to clear his head. There was no room to fly a dogfight in the corridors of Nemesis.

"There is no one there coward, now find me the engine diagnostic panel."

"But Lord Megatron..."

"NOW." The word bounced and echoed around within Skywarps cranial armour. When the echo stopped, he took a hesitant step forward and placed a purple and black leg inside the drive room. A long drawn out low pitched noise sounded and something lashed in at him from his left. Incredibly the entire body of a Decepticon lurched passed Skywarp as he retreated sharply and crashed to the floor, the impact bouncing limbs away from the torso. All five body parts wriggling slowly with malformed life. The sight transfixed Skywarp. The Decepticons armour was unkempt and holed and decayed. Large cracks ran all over the body and Skywarp found he was unable to identify the two tone brown coloured Decepticon.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh," another drawn out half word announced another shambling brown figure moving towards Skywarp. This one appeared stronger than the last and the dishevelled figure attempted to grapple with Skywarp. There seemed to be more of them but they appeared starving and decayed. A third figure was making a shambling attempt to stand while the second wheeled Skywarp away. As the much stronger Skywarp pushed forward against his opponent a long beam whipped around from the direction of the third figure and struck Skywarps head with enough force the make Skywarp stumble. In a panic Skywarp lit off his teleportation engines and folded space around him, and jumped through dimensions.

 

"Skywarp is gone."

"Explanations Soundwave." Megatron's voice was pure menace.

"Teleported to the surface. Starscream is reporting his arrival, and another."

"Another what?"

"Frenzy is reporting it to be a Decepticon unknown identity and origin."

"What does Starscream say?"

"Starscream makes no further report. Buzzsaw indicated Decepticon carcass may be Hook." Megatron frowned mightily. What was Hook doing here?

"Surface Soundwave, mark this place so we can return. The presence of Hook demands an explanation now." Megatron turned and kicked, firing his thrusters towards the surface, moving gracefully but without speed in the fluid, leaving a trail of bubbles in his wake, even at these depths.


	17. Hostage Negotiation

Daylight had brought the sun to the string of gas stations and fast food drive-throughs serving the interstate to the north heading towards Washington State. Peak hour was just starting to thicken the traffic as the occasional freight semi-trailers were replaced by passenger sedans and station wagons of the suburban weekend warriors making their way into Salem heading for jobs to pay mortgages and school lunches.

The weak rays of the spring Pacific North-West sun was gradually warming the cockpit of a tatty blue Jeep Wrangler sitting outside a truckers diner. Optimus Prime exercised his newly acquired linguistic skills and kept a sweep going of the surrounding area trying to make some sense of the saturation of signals flying around the air, ever vigilant for any of the more familiar Decepticon transmissions. It was the proverbial metal shaving in a recycling dump exercise. He had no conversation to exercise, as Spike had collapsed into a rest cycle and was making subdued respiration noises. Sparkplug was absent finding fuel for himself and Spike at the facility behind them.

The older of the two humans at the moment returned, perching a tray of consumables on the Jeep's bonnet while he fiddled with the door.

"Wake up son," said Sparkplug far from gently. "Have some fat." Spike stirred in the driver’s seat, rubbing his eyes before grabbing the proffered bacon and egg bagel and steaming black coffee. Spike dumped the coffee in the cup holder beside Sparkplug and straightened in his chair.

"Any word from your fellows?" continued Sparkplug.

"Negative Sparkplug," said Optimus. "Our help will arrive in two minutes. There has been nothing from Goldbug since his last transmission." Spike and Sparkplug ate in silence munching away on their road trip food when a bright red flash appeared in the distance weaving through the inbound lanes at reckless speed, engine noise dancing crazily, but easily distinguishable above the rest of the traffic. Spike's vision was drawn to the angular shape that became a Lamborghini Countach when it turned into the driveway of the Gas Station driveway that was attached to the Diner. His eyes grew large at the sight of the Italian sports car as its path wavered around. Suddenly it bee lined towards them. The scarlet road racer pulled in beside a surprised Spike.

"Get ready to leave," crackled the Jeeps speakers.

"Prime?" A different voice crackled through the speakers, with none of Optimus Prime's commanding baritone, but neither was it shrill. "You look dreadful what have they done to you?"

"Desperate expediency Sideswipe. Has there been any news about Goldbug?"

"No nothing. We are all concerned for the little hovercar. Jazz is set to split an armour plate. Have you acquired two aliens? Will they be coming back to the Ark?"

"Sparkplug, Spike this is Sideswipe, one of my more capable warriors."

"Warriors?" asked Sparkplug with a mix of anger and concern bleeding into his voice.

"I am concerned about involving these humans any further," continued Prime. "But they have expertise that we will need. Additionally one of their faction and another human were with Goldbug when we lost contact. They have a vested interest in maintaining contact with us."

"There is a situation developing at the Ark, which is going to test Jazz' abilities too far I believe sir, can we leave quickly?"

"Immediately Sideswipe."

"Wait one gentleman," interjected Sparkplug. "Sidesweep,"

"Sideswipe."

"Sorry, but have you been driving quickly to get here?"

"Like a Ratbat out of smelt. It is urgent that we should be on our way."

"Any attention from the Police? Cars with colourful flashing lights?" Sparkplug appeared to be making an effort to make a conscious effort to dumb down his language for the alien robot.

"Several, all far too slow to keep up with this Autobot."

"Optimus Prime, this guy is marked by Police. We will have to take back roads and avoid any Police where possible. This will add time."

"Police? Why should I give a fluid vent about them?" Sideswipe's tone was dismissive.

"They enforce the law, and your reckless stunts will have attracted a lot of attention I bet. And you are far too easy to spot. Your car is that of a brightly coloured high performance car, it is exactly the type of vehicle the Police look for in someone who will make traffic infringements."

"They are going to blame me for the faults of you humans?"

"Optimus Prime, he will also need a passenger as cars without human drivers will attract a lot of attention too."

"Allright!" said Spike, perking up at the thought of climbing aboard the Lamborghini.

"Sorry Spike, you stay here in Buster's Jeep. Sideswipe will need looking after by someone more mature than you," said Sparkplug, far from apologetically. "I suspect you'll just encourage it. Him. Whatever." With that Sparkplug alighted from the Wrangler and walked around the back of the vehicle, stepping up to Sideswipe's driver side door, which opened ten seconds or so as Sideswipe hesitated. Spike fired up the Wrangler's engine.

"Sideswipe, follow Sparkplug's directions and roll out."

 

"The troops on the other side of that barrier will not react well to my abduction, and in fact this action will go along way to confirm fears of Autobot terrorist actions which are about to be perpetrated in Northern America. I advise you that surrender is not a course of action without disgrace against the overwhelming force of numbers the US Army can field against you."

Jazz was fascinated by this creature. Dispute the obvious disparity in size and the ridiculous disparity in weight, the small green clad figure stared up at Jazz seemingly without fear, and strong of will.

"General Stewart, we have no wish to cause you or you troops any discomfort, we just wanted to exchange opinions with you, without the threat of violence hanging over such a discussion." Grabbing this human from outside of the protective screen barrier was a high risk tactic. Trailbreaker had argued against it, and had wanted to start communications via radio from behind the force wall, disguise by Hound's hologram. Jazz however wanted to do this face to face and had proposed this course of action. Had Prowl been available Jazz might have listened more closely to the advice, but had Prowl been available, the decision would have been Prowls.

"Then you have me at a disadvantage as I am acutely aware of the potential and your apparent propensity for violence." Jazz considered the humans words then handed his rifle and missile launcher over to Wheeljack. Jazz hoped this would mollify the human.

 

"You're still over twenty feet taller than I am, and can no doubt squash me like a bug." Stewart, very aware he was alone, continued to stare defiantly up at the black faced white leviathan, and all he could think about was what the Good 'ol Boys in the South would make of a black face on a white body.

"There is little I can do about that, but if it helps at all..." the robots booming sentence trailed off and it raised its arms above his head, tucking them in under its breast plate armour as it rotated above its head, while the rest of his body seemed to shrink into its feet while above the feet pivoted to fall forward. The whole process saw Jazz gradually take the shape of a sports car, and eventually became incongruously a Porsche 934 sports racing car.

"Is this more reassuring for you General? Are you here to make a deal or to make complaints?" The voice, smaller now issued from somewhere inside the car and the driver’s side door popped open invitingly.

"I am here because I was kidnapped, taken against my will" Stewart continued to hedge, trying to hold some form of moral high ground over these Autobots, trying to get them to come to his position, rather than compromise. He did however walk towards the Porsche, and wondered vaguely if this was how David Hasselhoff felt each time he had to deal with a smart-ass car second guessing him, folded himself down into the cars racing seat.

"I congratulate you on your decision General."

"I think you need to work on your language skills, I don't think you've figured it out yet." Stewart decided Jazz was not being patronising, and was merely trying to be appreciative.

"Your language is extremely difficult one to learn," said Jazz, echoing the comments of pilots and diplomats the world over, cursing the dependence on English.

"We have a need to learn of your intentions here in the United States. We have learned some disturbing things about you and your kind."

"From whom?"

"A being who described himself as Megatron." The robot suddenly made a harshly electronic noise that caused heads to turn of the other robots within sight out of the Porsche's windscreen.

"Sorry General, but Megatron is a terrorist and criminal responsible for the death of millions of Cybertronians. That scragger has a day of retribution coming to him, and I, we, are all particularly sorry for you and your race that he has been brought to your world when you have no defence."

"That is much the same situation Megatron described to me. How am I to know which is the correct one?"

"The toll of your dead and wounded should tell you that."

"There have been no deaths attributed to Decepticon aggression." Stewart phrased the reply carefully, aware of one death, two wounded and one MIA amongst troops to have come in contact with the aliens. "So far the Decepticons have been open and proactive in their negotiations with us, yet the Autobots have remained in hiding. This creates certain impressions." There was silence as this Autobot thought. This one was not a trained negotiator. He was too open with his language, opinions and emotions. Jazz may have had seniority but he did not feel like a leader the way Megatron had. Could that mean the Autobots were playing 'good cop, bad cop' with him somehow? Or were they merely not as well led? Where could that be something to exploited?

"All I can say to you General is that will not stay the same. Our war has run millions of cycles. And Megatron has not let any life stand in the way of his goals."

"What can you offer the United States government by way of re-assurance of your peaceful intentions? Can you provide us a service or an opportunity for information exchange?"

 

Jazz was left feeling uncertain by Stewart's thinly veiled approach. Was Stewart after weapons technology? It seemed too obvious, but Optimus had once told him not to be too quick to dismiss the obvious. Had Megatron already offered them arms? Was human technology sufficiently advanced to be able to comprehend Cybertronian science? 

"I am unsure exactly what we have could be of use to you. Our races are sufficiently different that I am doubtful of much compatibility." Jazz made an adjustment and called Wheeljack of a sub-frequency.

"Wheeljack - how compatible would human science be with ours?"

"High energy physics is high energy physics. The principles of scale would if anything makes it easier for them to comprehend. Reproducing it though, would take many cycles. They would have to invent the technology of constructing the components as well."

"Wheeljack," Jazz interjected before the Autobots resident nerd could have his easily distracted mind race off on an intellectual pursuit while Jazz was still in discussion with Stewart.

"Apologies Jazz, was I rambling again? I am doing that more and more since I came here. I think it is because I can not talk to..."

"WHEELJACK!" This time Wheeljack did not apologise, he just clicked off air. All this occurred rapidly in a second while Stewart was still framing a reply.

"Can we let our scientists be the judge of that?" Stewart said, responding to Jazz' question. "We do realise that you will need our help simply to survive here without your own infrastructure.”

"We have scientists of our own. I am sure we can come up with some basic information exchange.”

 

“Do you intend to bear arms while in our country?”

“Bear? A large furry animal has weapons?”

“Would you be carrying guns around? That sort of thing worries our leadership when an agency not under our control may at any moment run rampage through an unprotected environment.

“Absolutely. You may not see it, but Megatron is a deadly threat to anything that lives.”

“You don’t think our enforcement agencies could handle him?”

“No.” Jazz tried to put as much finality as possible into the statement, to try and emphasise what Megatron was capable of. The Decepticon leader appeared to have duped the humans with promises of technology and weapons. And who knows what these humans might do with them, even supposing Megatron was sufficiently benevolent to actually give them something.

A noise echoed down the corridor, half anguished cry, half electronic howl from the direction of the alcove entrance which had been left open as Wheeljack moved in and out of the Ark helping Trailbreaker.

Radio sub-frequencies spring to life.

"Jazz, the humans detonated some explosives near the edge of Trailbreakers force shield. Trailbreaker held but he will not for much longer. He will need reinforcing as he will be weakened by the strain."

"All Autobots report to Wheeljack at the new entrance and grab as many weapons as you can. Ratchet, if we have enough energon to reactivate one of the Omnibots or Minibots then do so." Jazz switched and started vocalising through his speakers again. "General Stewart, your men tried to break through our shielding. Will they press their attack?"

"You expect me to tell you our tactics?"

"Since you are in here with us, yes."

"Under the terms of the Geneva Convention for the treatment of prisoners I am under no obligation to inform you of anything other than my name, rank and serial number."

"That sentence made no sense to me at all. Are you going to help me to help you General? While you and your troops may be able to hurt us, if we shoot back there will be deaths. Help me stop this."

“You understood me claiming to be a prisoner here? Maybe my troops don’t know…” Listening to Stewart, a frustrated Jazz could take it no longer. He had to ask a question that had been annoying him since Stewart arrived.

“I am sorry General, I have to ask, you are running your words together. How do you do that?” 

“Ummmmm, is that even relevant? Look the troops probably think they have experienced hostile intentions when the senior officer is spirited away by an out of control Jeep.”

“Yes but what is ‘don’t’?”

“Do not. Look is there some problem with the decision making process here?"

"Jazz!" The excitable voice of Cliffjumper broke into Jazz conversation. The Minibot had taken up Sideswipe's observation post when the warrior sped off to rescue Optimus and Goldbug.

"Stay calm Cliffjumper and report."

"The humans have decided to move up, and they are bringing their heavy armour with them." Jazz sighed and opened his driver’s side door.

"I am sorry General. Our negotiation time has run out." Stewart stepped out and Jazz returned to his normal shape. “If you think you can achieve something my communications array is at your disposal. If you think you can save lives by helping us to anticipate what your troops are doing then come this way.” Jazz shrank down into his vehicle mode again and popped open his door. The radio was alive again as both Wheeljack and Cliffjumper shouted for attention, while Ratchet was moving to tend to Trailbreaker with the job of reviving another Autobot only half finished. Stewart just looked at Jazz as the noise of exploding ordinance was heard from outside. Leaving Jazz holding his breathe on a string of cybertronian curses.

“General, coming or going?” Jazz suddenly hit on the idea of piping the battle radio through his speakers, after slowing it down for human tolerances of comprehension.

“Trailbreaker is down. The field is collapsing.”  
“Where is Jazz?”  
“The mobile armour is moving upwards.”  
“Wheeljack I want to shoot them, let me shoot them.”  
“JAZZ!”  
“Cliffjumper hold your fire.”

“General?” asked Jazz once more. Stewart shook his head. Jazz guessed it meant no and cursed loudly and left rubber lines behind his tyres on the floor as he raced to the battle front, to try and salvage something before it got dangerous. Jazz was out of options and needed to talk to someone. Anyone. Prowl. Jazz burst through the alcove entrance and grabbed his rifle as he transformer as Wheeljack flung first the rifle, then his missile launcher in his direction. Jazz immediately grabbed a missile from within his armour and fitted it as he ran towards Ratchet and the prone Trailbreaker.

“Ratchet, I have an idea.”


	18. Under Wraps

The sun was climbing into the Nevadan skies outside, but here in this no-place, time, or even daylight, had no meaning. The lights always burned and there was no outside illumination, or even any windows, supposing there was any light to admit. The air had the cool but too dry feel of sealed system air-conditioning. There were no windows, and no decorations, but for some reason, certain corridors were painted in pastel colours, but these were only those the staff and the residents did not have exclusive access to. Other corridors were a uniform battleship grey, floors, walls and ceilings.

The staff were split into the medical personnel and the analysts. The medics wore dull white, a white that had seen many years of service. When new clothing was acquired it spent two weeks in the laundry having the brightness washed out of them. The analysts wore grey or black, depending on whether they were being field agents that day.

The man in black only knew he was in Nevada, because he had been told he was. He was a cliché in the making. The agent was dressed in black suit, with black shirt and slacks. A black tie, black dark sunglasses, even while inside the building, completed the menacing look. There was also a black hat and overcoat to go with the ensemble for when venturing outside.

But that would not be necessary today. Today he was interviewing residents.

You get all sorts people who come to live here. Most of them take years to realise their move is permanent. It is usually at that point they either become depressive or catatonic, or they tell everything they know, and then they become depressive or catatonic. Life expectancy amongst residents was not what it could be.

There were exceptions. Old Harry for example was in his mid seventies, quite a celebrity in his time when he had been snatched up in the mid 60's. Once his usefulness as an item of interest had passed he had been allowed certain freedoms, and access to the library.

There had been three new acquisitions this week, and while two were of little interest other than having their knowledge removed from the public domain, the other was of intense interest and seemed certain to outlive even old Harry.

According to rumour he was already four million years old.

Reaching the door to this resident’s room a sturdy padded folding metal chair leant beside the door, along with a leather bound folder containing a pen and some sheaths of paper. This was all standard equipment for visiting a resident, but somehow the black clad agent thought that standard techniques would be much less effective, but a start had to be made.

Opening the door the agent was presented with the new resident for the first time, his large yellow head turning instantly towards the agent.

"I greet you," it said civilly. For the moment the agent ignored the resident and with practiced movements rapidly pushed the table into snug secure fittings in the floor and did likewise with the chair. In more extreme circumstances bolts would then secure both to the floor to prevent a potentially violent resident from using them against an agent. Once seated the agent opened his folder, shuffled some papers then replaced the sunglasses with reading glasses and peered down his nose at the resident.

"You claim to be known as 'Goldbug'?" Casting doubt on identity was a good place to start.

"Yes I do. I least I think I do. My name does not translate that well into American." The resident’s explanation seemed simple, the speaker appearing to be open and honest.

"English. The language is called English." Establish superiority. "Where were you constructed?"

"I went online at the Emergency Origin Complex in Styx in Cybertron." The agent feigned puzzlement for his response.

"In what country might I find Cybertron?"

"It is not a country. It is a planet." The resident was displaying puzzlement of his own.

"Nonsense. No other planets can support life necessary to maintain a society that might construct you. In this facility you will not obfuscate the facts with uninformed speculation. You will answer truthfully to the best of your ability and we may be able to help integrate you into a future in which you might be useful. You have a body perfectly adapted for assassination. Which power sent you?"

"I am an Autobot."

"You said your name was Goldbug. Are you renouncing your name for another? If we cannot even establish your name then determining your usefulness will be troublesome. Are you even deserving of a name?"

"Of course I am. I am Goldbug and I was constructed on Cybertron." The agent allowed the resident just a hint of indignation, before returning with the scorn.

"And you flew here in a great spacecraft too?"

"Well, yes I did."

"There are no spacecraft large enough to carry a device of your construction and bulk. Why are you here?"

"That is Megatron's fault. He attacked our spacecraft and forced us into a crash landing." There was a touch of naivety about this resident, whether it was comparatively inexperienced, emotionally open, or just a trait programmed into it, mattered little, but it did make it easier to go on the attack to erode the residents confidence.

"A spaceship crash landing into the Earth would have been noticed. We have radar installations and a planetary population in the billions..."

"Billions?" a look of incredulity spread across the residents mechanical features.

"Yes billions. Don't you think someone would have noticed a spaceship crash?"

"Well we have been stasis locked for some time after the crash."

"Do you think a population of six billion sprang up overnight?"

"No I do not. Can you tell me anything of the two humans I was brought here with?" 

"You were brought here under guard and alone. Why would a human associate with a robot of your size without becoming terrified?" That was enough for now decided the agent and folded up his folder with a snap. "I don't think I am getting through to you. There will be no more talk of spaceships or life on other planets. When I return we will talk on who built you and why you are here." The agent stood.

"Wait!"

"You had your chance, but instead you chose to tell me fantasies. Maybe we will get further next time." With a sharp spin turn, the agent marched to the door which opened for him. The table and chair, both fixed to the decking, were left behind, the better for the resident to reflect on the conversation. The technique was standard, isolate physically, isolate mentally, and then erode self-confidence via the resident’s beliefs. This resident was responding better than most humans would. Once in the corridor the agent allowed himself a luxury, as he switched reading glasses for sunglasses. He smiled. It was not though a smile of happiness or joy.

It was the smile of the predator.


	19. Psychosis

Six grimy, discoloured, dishevelled, figures lay in various states of decay and disrepair. Each of the emaciated brown figures were in a dreadful state with armour plates missing, limbs cracked open and exposed, some body parts were completely non-functional. It was all Megatron could do from executing each of them on the spot for allowing themselves to exist in such a state. They were a disgrace to the Decepticon insignia and despite a rare protest from Soundwave, Megatron had torn the purple standard from each of their bodies, where it still existed.

It was a Constructicon team, led by Scrapper, one of the better ones, although identification had been difficult. One could only be tentatively identified as Long Haul. The others it was reasonably certain were the previously identified Hook, Bonecrusher, Mixmaster and Scavenger.

And all of them were mentally unhinged. Scrapper, Hook, Mixmaster and Scavenger were all very or extremely intelligent engineers in their own disciplines and Long Haul was competent in his field, assuming it was Long Haul. But all six were behaving in a capacity that would have made a normal Bonecrusher seem a genius, which he assuredly was not.

Soundwave's analysis was crude, and as such Megatron chose to dismiss it. It was Soundwave's opinion that the six of them had near starved to death over the course of several million cycles. Megatron refused to accept that he would have gone un-rescued for such a prolonged period.

It also appeared that some or all of Scrapper's team had gruesomely killed Spectro, Spyglass and Viewfinder, a Reflector reconnaissance team whose remains had been found aboard the Nemesis.

It also remained a mystery why any of these nine Decepticons were onboard Nemesis in the first place. One by one a disgusted Skywarp had teleported the former Decepticon warriors to the surface. Having to gather Scrapper's limbs together from where he had fallen in particular had tested Skywarp's squeamishness.

Soundwave was attempting to repair them; it was taking a lot of resources. Soon the stockpile of energon he had pilfered from the Ark would be in short supply.

This was why the fleshbag was here. It had a grandiose name which was far too long for a creature of such lack of stature. But it did have a deal of sorts which would be advantageous to Megatron and have the appearance of advantage to these humans, but would likely be useless. And it would disadvantage the Autobots.

Megatron liked that kind of deal.

So this flesh bag, Secretary Fury, was being tolerated for the moment while Starscream wove a tale of Autobot abuse into an emotional story of hardship for the Constructicons, whose presence remained a mystery. The fact that there was not a word of truth in Starscreams story was both irrelevant and not unusual for the Squadron Commander. If he had anything to do with the Constructicons presence he was hiding it better than Megatron would have given Starscream credit for. Megatron needed to interject himself into the diatribe now.

"What do you know of the Autobot malcontents?"

"There is a minor but chaotic skirmish going on at their ship now. They appear to have captured General Stewart. Information appears sketchy."

"Who is leading them?"

"We have tentatively identified the leader as the one called Jazz."

"Do you need our assistance in quelling this disturbance?"

"Not according to the last information I have received, if you like, I can convey your offer to the President, but for the moment we would prefer to take care of the problem ourselves. We certainly do not want anyone taking armed action within our borders not sanctioned by the government. It is against our laws."

"Secretary Fury, you have a background in energy production?"

"Oil pumping in Texas, yes."

"As does your President with whom you share a mutual friendship."

"Yes," The human was talking slower now, less sure of the direction this conversation.

"And you still maintain strong connections in this industry, including financial holdings?" Soundwave had suggested to Megatron that this human could be threatened with this item of news.

"I categorically deny any and all..."

"Secretary Fury, the discovery of the depravations the Autobots has visited on Scrapper and his team have meant that our supplies of energon are now dangerously low because of their rehabilitation. We have to replenish our supplies immediately, and since your bureaucracy is likely to slow the process considerably and certainly you will find sections of your government deeply afraid of us and our capabilities in a nation as isolated as yours."

"We are not an isolated nation; we have trade treaties with every major trader and are the leaders of the world economy."

"And that leadership has put you on a level above your peers. Your population is extremely inward looking and know little and care little beyond your borders. This isolation creates paranoia within government agencies, and this paranoia would like to see us starve to death while they talk themselves to distraction about options. I will not allow that to happen. Since I cannot yet negotiate myself the energy requirements I need, we will need to take some. Can you name a facility that would benefit you and your connections if we raided it?"

"I... I... I need to contact the President," stammered the stunned human.

"We cannot wait any longer. If you have an opposition that it would be useful to attack and pillage, name it now, else I chose one at random." The last of the six Constructicons in the row looked the healthiest and it was here Soundwave was concentrating. Hook was a battlefield surgeon amongst his other abilities and would be better able to care for his fellows than Soundwave could.

"Report Soundwave."

"Attempting reactivation. Expected brain will reset to a point prior to launch of Nemesis to avoid trauma of the journey. This opinion extrapolated from inexperienced analysis. Expected to have no memory of journey or circumstances pertaining to. If successful with Hook, combat readiness for team will be nominal in three point five time units."

"Excellent Soundwave, but any investigation into what happened into the Reflector team will be impossible?"

"Affirmative."

"Do not use this procedure on one of them. I need to find out what happened. What will happen if you attempt a normal revival procedure?"

"Unknown. Expect irrational behaviour and risk possible brain damage."

"Memory retention may be possible?"

"Affirmative." Megatron thought through the possibilities and risks, of which the personal safety of the Constructicon in question was not one. One member of the team leapt out as someone who could be little worse.

"Leave Bonecrusher."

"Affirmative. Time to team readiness, three time units."

"That is how long before we leave Secretary Fury. Allow us time to do some planning. You would not want us to sloppily kill civilians would you?" Megatron turned and stalked away from the fretting Fury who immediately grabbed for communications. He returned to Soundwave who was crouched on one knee by the now sitting up Hook.

"Soundwave are you monitoring the flesh sacks signal?"

"Affirmative. Encryption has been cracked."

"Hook, report."

"Lord Megatron, I, my location is unknown and I do not know how I got here and what has possessed your positronic structures such that you have been letting the limited faculties of a radio operator inside my frame?" Hook’s voice had grown increasingly acidic as the sentence wore on. Both Megatron and Soundwave ignored the editorial however.

"Hooks systems are nominal." Hook reached over and yanked the telemetry cabling attached to his torso.

"Why do you believe that your limited functionality would be capable of coming to such an opinion? Where did you acquire knowledge of Constructicon systems," Hook raised an arm to point at the tonal communicator only for an armour panel to fall off the arm with the movement. Hook stared at the fallen piece of green armour for a moment before he pushed it downwards to steady himself as he wobbled briefly. "That was not what I was expecting. What do you know of my..." Hook paused, taking in the other Constructicons lying beside him. "Our symptoms?"

"Hook, you have three time units to get your team ready for combat operations. Starscream!" Megatron turned away towards Starscream who had been hovering, keeping his audio receptors well within range of the conversation. "Ready the troops for action."

"What troops? Skywarp does not represent an army!" 

"Get Soundwave’s team prepared while he is busy."

"If I do not step on one and kill it."

"If you wanted more troops you should have brought more Seekers that were capable of more than one action before succumbing. No more insolence Starscream. I may need you alive, but I can still make your life that of the pit and execute your spark later."

 

While Jazz took over running the defence of the Ark, the robot medic, called Ratchet, had grabbed General Stewart, who had been trying to use a radio that the Autobots had not noticed he had in his possession, to contact the infantry Colonel outside. Ratchet took Stewart to the Autobot infirmary. The room itself must have once been spacious, even by the standard of these metal giants, but one end of the room was badly crumpled, presumably from the impact of landing.

Near the back of the room a group of pods, large enough to comfortably house one of these robots, jutted from the walls. Lights glowed on two of them. Ratchet walked up to one and started manipulating the controls on the door, and on a nearby console.

“Have some patience General. I am reviving one of our wounded, a senior officer in order to better negotiate. Jazz is an operations type of Autobot. He is good at what he does, but command is something he has only had to learn out of necessity.” Ratchet had a slightly larger frame than Jazz which featured a larger blocky body with a contrastingly spindly limb structure. Ratchet’s head sat behind a large windscreen, and by his largely white colouring with some red striping and Red Cross insignia, Stewart assumed he could take the form of an Ambulance. It seemed odd that so precise a match between the Autobots role and its vehicular identity that could only have been guessed at.

“The security of the United States of America is my foremost concern, and right at this second you and your fellow criminals are preventing me from being able to best perform that function. Release me from the prison and then maybe we can negotiate.”

“I think you would be wounded or killed crossing the lines General,” said Ratchet. With a hiss of decompression the front panel opened, and Ratchet bent forward, inspecting the one within.

“Who is in this pod?” Stewart pointed towards the pod beside the one Ratchet was working on which, unlike the others in the room, had lit panels displaying information Stewart could not decipher. Ratchet turned briefly to look, and continued his work.

“A prisoner General,” Ratchet’s voice was slightly muffled as the pod door stood between them for a moment.

“A Decepticon.”

“Yes. Do not be alarmed, he is quite secure.”

“This is a prison?”

“It is an infirmary. Thundercracker was wounded and these chambers assist in the repairing of injuries sustained in battle. That RH chamber is activated but receiving no input from the nano-med droids. He will be quite docile.”

“Ratchet, is Optimus,” a new voice issued from within the pod.

“No Prowl he is not here. You have not recuperated yet, but we have need of you. The indigenous population is attacking us, but you may be able to negotiate a cease fire that Jazz could not.” A white and black Autobot stepped into view from the pod, but quickly sagged and had to be assisted by Ratchet. This Autobot was of sturdier appearance than Ratchet, with a more defined humanoid shape. A figure in white and black two thick white legs climbed up to silver thighs and a white and black torso. Stewart noticed logos that looked like Police badges and signage on his body that said ‘Police’. Stewart was momentarily incensed that these robots would think of infiltrating law enforcement agencies, and then he remembered the Army Jeep fighting outside. The pair turned and came fully into view. The newcomer had a white helm framing a silver face with two demonic red antennae jutting from the peak of his forehead like horns.

“Prowl, this is a local military officer, General Stewart. General, this is Prowl, our Executive Officer.” 

"General. Is that a designation or a position? What position do you hold exactly?"

"I am the military officer in charge of a unit charged with dealing with unusual circumstances. I have sufficient authority for your purposes."

"Your role sounds advisory in nature." Stewart decided that Prowl was testing the limits of who he has talking with, whilst attempting to provoke at the same time. Despite his apparent weakness, plainly he was suffering from a wound to the mid section and to the shoulder the Ratchet was not supporting; this was a more dangerous adversary than the upfront Jazz.

"As I said, I have sufficient authority for your purposes."

"General, the first thing I want is a cease fire. You can see on even a 100 to 1 basis we can easily overcome your forces. Jazz will be trying to keep our forces from returning fire, but eventually he will be pushed back to the point where he must stand his ground in the defence of our vessel and the helpless within."

"What helpless? There are more of you?"

"There is myself for example, plus several others amongst us in medical hibernation as we are suffering from starvation,"

"Prowl!" Ratchet seemed offended that Prowl would give away such secrets to a potential adversary. Prowl ignored the medic and continued to stare down at Stewart.

"If it is necessary to arrange compensation for your assistance, I am sure you realise while we do not have the means to do so by your financial systems, we plainly have other methods of providing services for you and your nation. All I ask is for a ceasefire to protect the soldiers under your command. Is that so difficult?" Stewart took a deep breath at Prowl's plea. This was the time to commit or ally himself and the US military to Megatron for the duration. Stewart found himself thinking that the options had to be explored.

"I guess it is not."

There was a hiss of compressed air behind them and Ratchets head snapped around.

"Oh frag." Ratchet let go of his support of Prowl, who staggered, tried to remain upright, but fell with a crash. Distracted by the falling Autobot, Stewart did not see the dark blue figure that emerged from the pod the Stewart had previously indicated. There was echoing clang of metal on metal, and Ratchet crashed to the floor.

"So you thought to de-power my weapons and try to imprison me. You do not know your own systems. But I do remember what you did to me you piece of contaminated solder." The tall blue figure lifted a leg and brought it crashing down on Ratchet's head as the medic tried to clamber out of the way, shattering the clear shield and knocking him cold. The new figure uttered a harsh electronic sound in Ratchet's direction shot him in the torso.

"You did not know I could recharge the weapon myself did you?" The blue robot was massaging a fist in a very human gesture which made Stewart think the echoing clang was this robot striking Ratchet down.

"Thundercracker, you do not have to do this," Prowl had turned to face upwards towards the new figure, which Stewart now noticed looked a lot like Starscream. "There can still be a place for you amongst us. You said you doubted your cause; this is your opportunity to do something about it. Take a step towards the light and save yourself."

"That was you in the chamber?" Thundercracker had one of his arm mounted weapons pointed at Prowl's upper torso. The aim shifted, moving towards Prowl's exposed lower torso wounds. The dark coloured metal of the Decepticon’s head disguised his features from Stewart's view. He moved closer, and the portions of its face Stewart could make out were twisted. "I can not do this. Your kind are weak. You have no spark to do what is neccessary to win."

"You are just trying to convince yourself." Stewart moved to try and get out of the path Thundercracker would have to take to leave the room when the other arm shot outwards training the huge barrel directly at Stewart.

"Trying to convince these fleshbags to help you? You think they can make the difference?"

"You tell yourself what you have to Thundercracker, we both know the truth. Are you to live a lie the rest of your life?" Thundercracker continued to stare down Prowl for several long moments before issuing another harsh electronic noise and stomping out of the room. Stewart turned to watch the retreating blue back pick up speed as it ran away in the direction Stewart himself had come. A now familiar but still strange noise of great objects shifting back and forth issued behind Stewart. When he turned a Datsun Police Car sat where Prowl had been.

"Jazz, Thundercracker has escaped and is heading towards you now. Watch your back. Coming General?" A door on the car opened. "We have to stop hostilities now before Thundercracker rips your troops to shreds. Then we need to make a deal General. We need your assistance to remain functioning, and you need to keep effective tabs on a military unit as powerful as this."

 

The Wrangler handled the terrain better than Sideswipe, who with the journey almost complete had suddenly stepped up the pace claiming the Ark was under attack. Under Optimus direction the Jeep had caught Sideswipe as he struggled up the rough track, which was chopped up badly compared to when the Autobot had been travelling in the other direction the previous day. The two vehicles rounded a corner in the track through the trees and heard a distinctive sound of rapid fire projectile weapons, and a sound that Optimus and Sideswipe found immediately familiar.

"Krelling Seekers," said Sideswipe as he reached the rear of the military column. Unceremoniously Sparkplug was ejected from the driver’s side as the scissor door opened. The Lamborghini folded at the A Pillar, transforming into a white and black robot covered in the red armour of the Lamborghini panels, then ran up the track towards where the soldiers were firing, pushing two covered truck troop transports on their sides to give himself more room to move. A dark jet suddenly appeared, climbing out of the trees ahead on a column of fire. Sideswipe stopped to track his rifle in and opened fire, unleashing a dazzling light show at the fleeing fighter. A missile exploded off of Sideswipe's right shoulder, screaming its way skywards trailing bright light and smoke of the missiles exhaust. A rushing sound filled the clearing Sideswipe had made for himself from the pushed over trucks and two gouts of flame erupted downwards from Sideswipes back and lifted the robot from the ground like a rocket, reaching skywards himself, still holding his rifle outwards, firing as he went.

"Sideswipe abort, you do not have the speed to catch Thundercracker." Optimus Prime realised it was probably a futile effort as Sideswipe's fluids were pumping hard now, and there were times when he was far too reckless for his own good.

"What do we do now?" asked Spike. Sparkplug had picked himself and was standing by Spike's side of the Jeep. Father and son looked skywards as Sideswipe grew smaller before disappearing behind the tree tops. There was a great deal of shouting up the trail and some of the soldiers were running towards them, rifles raised.

"I think we're about to find out," said Sparkplug grimly. "Optimus Prime if you can contact any of your kind, now might be an excellent time to do it."

"Raise your hands in the air and step away from the vehicle!"


	20. Energy Raid Part I

Coming up on his tenth hour on the deck, Derrick Sherwin finally stepped back away from the bore, which was still gushing litres of black mineral slime into the sump beneath the access point for the bore. One of his crew mates swung the upper pipe back into position with the drill head removed and the large clamp was placed around the join.

"Check the seals and fire it up," shouted Sherwin above the machinery and the howling wind. "I am off shift already." With a vaguely waved thumbs up from the deck supervisor, Sherwin’s stepped back and retreated to the relative comfort of the superstructure.

San Ferdisco B was not a new rig, but the bore it sat upon was profitable and plentiful and in an environment where the Arabian nations had sufficient reserves that they could dole it out how and when they liked, any locally produced US supplies were warmly received, even if the quality was not as good as that found in the Arabian Gulf. San Ferdisco A was long gone, older machinery and inefficient extraction techniques, its remnants, a few miles away to the South, were a constant reminder that time moves on. To the North San Ferdisco D was under construction, and one day Sherwin might be able to leave the smell and rust of 'Bravo' behind for a shiny new rig he could make smelly and rusty. A ceiling speaker above Sherwin crackled into usefulness.

"Attention any off duty personal report to transport deck for a FOD check. That is all."

Sherwin ignored the message and continued to walk towards the mess. He cursed silently when the shift manager strode into view around the corner. The Manager frowned.

"Come on Bjorn, up to the pad." Bjorn came from Sherwin's name Derrick, in that with a name like 'Derrick' he was born to work on an Oil Derrick. Over time the nickname had acquired a Swedish pronunciation.

"Look Stephani, I've been on deck for twelve," Sherwin checked his watch, "thirteen hours now. I need food and I need sleep."

"A FOD check won't take long, and if a loose bolt got sucked through a helicopter turbine, then you'd have a Sea King crashing through the mess while you eat." 

Within moments Sherwin was back out on the decking of the rig, climbing the steeply inclined gantry stairs to the helipad, or 'Transport Deck' as Stephani's administrative assistant officiously described it on the P/A. The pad was a level above and offset to one side, partly over the edge of one corner of the superstructure.

A few men had already assembled on the deck looking tired from either having recently woken or from looking forward to eight hours of sleep. Stephani organised them into a line and bent over they walked across the deck, looking for FOD (foreign object damage), small solid objects which in the vortex of air under a landing helicopter might be sucked into a turbine air intake and wreck one of the helicopters two engines.

Sweep done the men disappeared but some inkling caused Sherwin to stay alongside Stephani who was looking out over the sea in the direction of the Californian coast. Stephani had a house brick sized two way radio in his hand.

"Carter, how far away is the bird?"

"Problem boss?" Stephani waved vaguely as he concentrated on Carter's words.

"Start the lights." Stephani then packed the radio back onto his tool belt, the unofficial uniform of rig workers. Rotating lights and strobes lit off around the helipad and a large spotlight splashed light across the deck, illuminating the day-glo white paint on the large 'H'. "He says its approaching very quickly but has not called in to say hi. It's an unscheduled flight. Carter says he's calling head office."

There was a pause as the two oil men looked out towards the Eastern horizon.

"I don't see any running lights," remarked Sherwin.

"No, I," the rest of Stephani's reply was lost as a rushing sound rapidly swept by them at high speed and to the right. A fireball explosion enveloped the upper level of administration centre of the rig's superstructure, destroying all the antennae mounted on the roof of the structure, roughly level to them on the opposite corner of the rig. A wave of heat washed over Sherwin and Stephani. The shockwave was little more than a strong wind, but Stephani crumpled to the deck with a groan.

"Oh shit, boss!" Sherwin dropped to one knee to look over the suddenly ashen Stephani.

"I feel terrible." Sherwin checked the Stephani's back and saw blood was starting to seep through a tear in Stephani's high visibility wet weather gear. There was a none too gentle metallic thud behind Sherwin and two tall blocky figures, one blue and one black, raced past the two rig workers and leapt down the stairs without touching the steps. A larger thud tremored through the decking beneath Sherwin's knees and feet, and Sherwin watched Stephani's eyes go wide.

"Don't go into shock it’s just a rough landing for the bird." Stephani continued to stare past Sherwin, and started to point. A large shape landed near the top of the stairs. It was bird shaped but with sharp edges. The rotating and strobing landing lights picked out the angular highlights of the bird, and it waddled towards them. It was big and black with a red crest. It looked them over curiously then seemed to dismiss them and took to the skies with the glowing thrust of two engines. A robot bird? Finally Sherwin took his eyes from his makeshift attempt to dress Stephani's shrapnel wound and turned to see what so frightened Stephani.

Two large blue triangular appendages sat in front of a pair of thick grey poles stretching up from the deck and merged into...

Sherwin could make no sense of the giant humanoid figure standing above him and astride the helipad. Starscream laughed into the skies and swung a null ray towards the two humans and cried to those who could hear;

"I, Starscream, claim this energon production facility in the name of the Decepticon Army. If anyone wants it, they can come and take it from me!" 

 

"Look Secretary Fury calm yourself, the President will be with you shortly."

"Dammit you stupid little woman, lives are at risk here. Put me through NOW." The Presidents secretary sighed at the phone once more. Fury had been on hold for an hour, but the President was in trade negotiations with the Chinese and had been told not to be interrupted unless it was by the White House Chief of Staff, or the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. The Secretary of Defence was neither and would have to wait. At that moment President Robinson strode past towards the Oval Office past the desk of his two secretaries and his personal batman.

"Mister President, I have Secretary Fury on hold for you, he sounds quite agitated."

"Thank you Mrs Fitzpatrick I'll take it at my desk."

"Yes Mr President."

"And ask Darrell to step in please."

"Yes Mr President." Robinson stepped into the most famous office in the world and as his principal Secret Service Agent closed the door behind him, taking up station at the door. The door on the other side opened and the shorter, broad shouldered figure of the White House Chief of Staff, Darrell Hodges stepped in from his neighbouring office. Robinson pressed a button on his large and well buttoned phone.

"George what is so damn urgent..."

"They're attacking an oil rig." Robinson watched Hodges bristle. Nobody was supposed to speak over the President.

"Who are?"

"The Decepticons. Megatron knew about us." That sentence lit off alarm bells in Robinson's head. Fury knew quite a lot that was personally damaging to the President.

"What did they know, and what did you tell them?"

"They knew about our history and they asked me to pick an enemies rig."

"George what did you do?" Robinson interjected as much personal authority into his voice that the leader of the free world could muster. Fury was panicking and he had to extract the information fast to deal with this.

"God help me Pat, they're attacking a Ferdisco platform I selected to refuel themselves."

"Didn't they have large reserves?" asked Hodges trying to gain some depth to the intelligence.

"Who is that? Pat are you alone?"

"Damn you Fury this is Hodges, and may I remind you that you are talking to the President of the United States?" Robinson waved downwards at Hodges but the phone went quiet.

"I am sorry Mr. President," for the first time the Secretary of Defence sounded composed. "I gave them the location of San Ferdisco B, their big collection rig off the California coast. Robinson pointed to Hodges who immediately left the room. "Their need became urgent when they found six survivors near starved to death in their vessel on the ocean floor. The survivors then consumed almost all the reserves to bring them back to health. Megatron said he had to acquire energy know and to wait for our bureaucracy would leave both them and us vulnerable to Autobot attack."

"So there are fifteen of them now?"

"Yes sir, maybe seventeen. There was some mention of one or two of them being missing. Look, Megatron gave me a two hour deadline and you weren't answering any of my calls so I gave him the location of Ferdisco's platform in the commercials." Robinson again signalled to Hodges who had returned from the outer office. The Presidents nearest advisor returned to the open doorway.

"Mrs Fitzpatrick, get Director Pentti on the phone please."

"What did General Stewart say?" continued Robinson.

"He's not here. He's up in the Cascades where the Autobots are, along with a regular army unit." Mrs Fitzpatrick walked into the room.

"Mr. President, Director Pentti on line 1, and I have General Pickett waiting for you on line 2 from the situation room."

"Pickett will have to wait, tell him I'll come down when opportunity presents."

"He's not going to like that Sir," remarked Hodges.

"Screw Pickett. We have to put a lid on this quietly. George's stupidity has gotten me personally involved," Robinson pushed a button on the phone. "Alain, we have a situation here."

"Indeed Mr. President, I was just about to link in with the Situation Room when you called."

"This is something else; the Decepticons are raiding an Oil Rig off the California coast. I want this event monitored but take no direct action do not inform the military of this."

"Mr President, I have to ask what your source is as the CIA are not aware of this event and I understand you think the Army is not aware of this and I would wnat to confirm your information."

"I cannot tell you that."

"Mr. President I have to ask if you are involving myself and my staff in any illegal activity."

"Goddammit Pentti, your President and commanding officer just gave you an order," said Hodges harshly. "How about some respect for the man who got you your job?"

"Director Pentti, will you or won't you do what I ask," said Robinson more quietly.

"Mr. President I want my objections to this noted."

"Done." Neither Robinson, nor Hodges made any such notation.

"I'll get back to you sir." Robinson pressed three buttons in sequence.

"Yes Mr. President?"

"Do you still need me to come down General?"

"No Mr. President, the situation in the Cascades appears to have stabilised. You will have a report shortly."

"I hope so General." Robinson broke the connection and looked across at Hodges.

 

"Yes Sir, the offer is understandably thin on details, but there are the bare bones of a technology sharing arrangement," 'Hawk' Stewart was talking down a secure phone line back in the mobile command centre. He was completely alone in the room while the infantry Colonel and his dogsbody Corporal fumed outside trying to get the unit ready to return to base without access to the unit’s communications rig. "The chief negotiator, Prowl, indicated that they would probably not be keen to share any weapons technology. Their communications technology is on the table and it looks impressive."

"So it's a lesser offer than the Decepticons?" At the other end was Major General Stokell, extracting a preliminary action report from Stewart at the scene for General Pickett.

"Yes sir it is, but I would trust these Autobots to uphold their end of an agreement more so than the Decepticons."

"If it goes to the President he may not be swayed by the moralistic side of the argument."

"I realise that sir, for the moment my recommendations is to sign with the Autobots. There is also a humanitarian issue with the Autobots; they are badly short of their food. Several of their kind are in hibernation because of the shortage, and I've authorised the delivery of appropriate material for them to synthesise this stuff." At that moment a Jeep appeared between the green army vehicles, honking horn as it went to clear a space through the squaddies.

"Can you hold a moment Paul?" The car pulled up and Major Yates alighted from the utility vehicle which then quickly unfolded into the Khaki coloured figure of Hound.

"Not for long Hawk."

"Sir," reported Yates with a salute. "We've had some reports from SIU's monitoring station of an attack at an oil drilling platform off the southern coast of California. They suddenly went off the air mid sentence, while a nearby Coast Guard Cutter reported sighting an explosion on the rigs upper structure. There was and is considerably signals intelligence but we don't recognise it and can't begin translate it."

"And?" Stewart sensed there was more but the answer did not come from Yates.

"We did," said Hound grimly. "Decepticons."


	21. Energy Raid Part II

Jazz felt like yelling with a kind of mad joy, but in his position it would have been bad for discipline. Nevertheless the Special Operations Agent leant forward into the curtain of sea spray kicked up in front of him with an eagerness he had not felt since awakening in Ratchet's med bay.

When the oil derrick had been assaulted, General Stewart had quickly set up a rendezvous with a US Marine Corps assault hovercraft, which fortuitously had been in handy position, and indeed recently moved to that location. So much so that Prowl suspected the hovercraft had been moved there to be used to transport the Decepticon’s energon booty from the Pacific Sunset to a permanent facility. Certainly the crews’ orders had been vague enough. Nobody enquired what the hovercraft was doing running between a river inlet and the two days it took to prepare the strike team.

Hound stood alongside Jazz, grasping the other side of cockpit structure, taking in every moment of this new environment, savouring each second of exploration, so different from his Cybertron home.

Cliffjumper was sitting at the front of the craft with a determined focussed look as he stood ready beside Trailbreaker, ready to provide fire support for the defensive strategist. The pair had been tasked of protecting the hovercraft during the vulnerable moments of transition once they were spotted. Back in the midst of the hovercrafts cargo area was Ratchet, uncharacteristically loaded up for combat, with Sideswipe and Wheeljack at each side.

Jazz looked back for a moment and signalled Sideswipe forward. It was time. Cliffjumper aside, Sideswipe and Jazz were the two most aggressive and capable soldiers in the crew, and they would lead the assault with Hound, Ratchet and Wheeljack to follow. Cliffjumper would be the reserve if things got heated.

The hovercraft had headed out to sea to the north of the target and was racing south now, parallel to the coast and straight towards the rig. So far no ranging fire had reached out to them from the rapidly approaching rig. Jazz tested his compressed air thrusters, while alongside Sideswipe was half crouched ready to ignite his jetpack ready to cover Jazz ascent.

Surprise could not be held forever, and fulfilling Prowl's prediction, Skywarp suddenly appeared at the edge of the rig; arms outstretched, sending heavy metal projectiles blazing in at the hovercraft. Trailbreaker had his energy shield up and ready to meet the hail of bullets while Cliffjumper, Hound, Ratchet and Wheeljack returned fire. Buzzsaw and Laserbeak appeared quickly from each side of the derrick and fly in towards the hovercraft only to be met with a hail of fire outbound from the human vessel. A couple of Marine Corps crewers even added some shoulder fired Stinger missiles to the mix, which immediately picked up and homed in on the two small Decepticons. The more cautious Laserbeak turned and headed for security beneath the structure but Buzzsaw was struck by several shots from Cliffjumper as Buzzsaw concentrated on shooting down incoming missiles from Hound and the Marines. With a huge splash the golden bird robot hit the ocean near the now stationary hovercraft and disappeared beneath the waves.

One of Wheeljack's missiles exploded at Skywarp's feet almost toppling him from the deck. Jazz saw the opportunity.

"Now!" called Jazz, and using the compressed air jets in his feet he leapt into the air, just behind Sideswipe whose own leap was assisted by his jetpack which held him hovering over water but above the decking of the rig. The decks of the superstructure sailed past Jazz vision as the leap ran out several metres above the lower platform. Almost Gracefully Jazz extended his legs to make contact with the deck, and then made a rather graceless landing as his full weight came down with Jazz's right leg too stiffly braced for the landing. While he stumbled Jazz heard Sidewswipe indiscriminately sweep rapid-fire from his rifle across the deck. When Jazz looked up, a Decepticon had been knocked flat. It looked unexpectedly like a Constructicon. The green figure stayed down while Skywarp again was forced to take cover before righting himself. Jazz found and dashed quickly for cover to maintain the landing zone as Hound sailed upwards through the air behind him. Rumble and Frenzy appeared through human sized doors to the super structure, firing from cover while Starscream rose on a pillar of exhaust from the far side of the rig, ready to enter battle. When Ratchet landed and ran to Jazz position, Jazz turned to Hound.

"Give me covering fire," and without waiting for an acknowledgement raced across the open deck with bullets and lasers flying all around him as he ran straight for Skywarp. Another crash of metal on metal sounded behind him as what must have been Wheeljack arriving and then he was upon the surprised black Seeker. Jazz vaulted over a building structure, which collapsed under Jazz weight, but held long enough for the Autobot to leap feet first and hit hard on Skywarp's torso, driving him backwards through the machinery of the lower drilling platform. Rolling clear he quickly rose to his feet and kicked out again at the Decepticon's rising head. Skywarp shook his head, grinned and stared, eyes suddenly locked straight. Jazz knew what that meant.

"No teleporting you scragger," yelled Jazz. There was real danger here. If the Seeker teleported down to the hovercraft then the plan would fall apart. Cliffjumper would no longer be able to defend Trailbreaker and the landing ship, while defending himself from the larger opponent one-on-one.

Jazz got to Skywarp and pinned him as the now vacant Seeker too slowly tried to bring arm guns to bear. Jazz retrieved a short barrelled stunner from a holster built into his thigh and shoved against the Decepticons head and fired just as he began to feel the heat from Skywarps leg mounted teleport engines. Jazz stood ragged. Skywarp had not put up much of a fight, but he still got the shakes from taking these guys on at force-blade range. He turned to see Wheeljack pounding across the deck, headed towards a better position with fire support from Hound and Ratchet. Jazz scooped up his fallen rifle and looked out towards the incoming fire. There was still Rumble and Frenzy firing away from the human habituated area, but several green figures were firing now back at Ratchet and Hound, possibly as many as six. These Decepticons were new and under the circumstances Jazz had not thought that possible. Jazz' team was badly outgunned. The initial plan was now cancelled and Prowl's Option B was in effect. Where was Sideswipe? Jazz heard the roar of engines above and realised that somehow, Sideswipe must be keeping Starscream busy.

"Attention Team Jazz, Option B. TB, how is the base?"

"Who?" asked Ratchet.

"Trailbreaker."

"Busy, not not as bad as it could be. Cliffjumper just has Laserbeak to deal with here. I am almost bored."

"Can the 'Jumper get up here?"

"Jumper?" quizzed Trailbreaker.

"Awww come on, Jumper, Cliffjumper."

"Where do you get these word concepts?" Exasperation was present in Ratchet's voice.

"Sorry Jazz, I can not jump that high," interjected Cliffjumper.

"Besides I will need him if Buzzsaw returns or Starscream pays us some attention."

"Can you see Sideswipe?"

"His head must have been attached sideways at template, he is taking on Starscream in the air. Sideswipe is holding his own, for the moment, but I do not believe Starscream is trying. Sideswipe is taking hits." 

Jazz scanned the decking. Soundwave was on the far side of the deck guarding the energon supplies he had created. The only left Ravage, and you never knew where he would be until it was too late, and Megatron. The Decepticon dictator was nowhere in sight, and that worried Jazz. He took a couple of steps from the stasis locked Skywarp and there was a crash from behind. Before Jazz could react a chrome plated arm grabbed him roughly around the neck and he was hurled him downwards to the deck. Face down Jazz felt pain in his side as he was kicked viciously and the Autobot tried to roll himself clear. Sitting himself upright he saw his tormentor was Megatron before a kick connected on Jazz's jaw.

"So you are Prime now Jazz? And I thought Optimus was pathetic." Jazz stepped up to the mark again and faced Megatron, but again he was too slow as Megatron again stepped in, grabbed and hurled Jazz. This time there was no thudding crash and suddenly he saw the platform super structure falling away. Jazz waited for the jarring crash into the water and disappearing beneath the surface, but it never happened. He turned to the left and saw Trailbreaker straining as his force field dragged Jazz towards the hovercraft. Cliff jumper was firing towards where Jazz had come from but a huge beam of light crashed into the ocean. Jazz grasped the side of the hovercraft and hauled himself aboard.

"Autobots retreat." The order made Jazz cringe but the purpose had been served. Ratchet appeared over the edge and with fire support from Jazz now Cliffjumper fired at the edge of the decking trying to keep Megatron from firing the fusion cannon. Wheeljack and Hound appeared at the edge of the rig and leapt downward with Sideswipe covering their retreat from the air during a break in his own battle as Starscream banked in the distance for another slashing run.

"GO!" The moment Wheeljack and Hound had been retrieved Jazz screamed the order at the marines who filled the air behind them with missiles as the hovercraft raced for shore. Sideswipe, his jetpack all but exhausted chased after the hovercraft, catching it and hauled himself aboard as his team mates filled the air with laser fire as Starscream broke off an attack run. Jazz slapped the backs of both Cliffjumper and Trailbreaker.

"Excellent work you two," Jazz turned. "Swiper, you are one corrupted individual. My appreciation." Sideswipe was wounded in several places and leaking energon. As Ratchet started treating his wounds Sideswipe grinned madly through the pain at Jazz.

"Nothing I did not enjoy. No Seeker is getting me no matter how good he tells people he is." Jazz smiled back at Sideswipe and activated the Autobot command frequency.

"Prowl, option B, we are fleeing towards you, Decepticons were over a dozen in number, bolstered by what looked like most of a Constructicon team. We have one wounded; the Doctor is still assessing the extent of the injuries. Take what precautions necessary against the larger number."

 

"Now, quickly we must chase them off, immediate pursuit" screamed Starscream. "Drive them away and protect the energon."

"Belay that order," countered Megatron. "We all go as one, Hook tend to Skywarp we need him, get him functional quickly. Soundwave, secure the energon for transport on the human vessel. When Skywarp is ready we pursue. Starscream, maintain a high watch."

"They could regroup and counter-attack. Attack now!"

"Starscream you will obey my commands or I will vent your spark through the back of your frame faster than half your strangely absent command is capable of flying at, you incompetent bungler. Maintain a reconnaissance position out of range of their guns and weapon their vessel if they turn back towards this facility."

"I am ready Lord Megatron," said the ragged voice of Skywarp with Hook at his side.

"This half formed recycled waste tank is not capable of telling you he is ready or not. I can not properly assess his condition in this half corroded open air relic. He will not be fit to fight effectively, or as effective as this unit is capable of fighting, but he may be able to contribute where his absence may find us lacking."

"You will learn to abbreviate your reports to me surgeon. Soundwave?"

"Buzzsaw reports free of fluid and ready," added the tonal voice of Soundwave. "Human vessel released to rally point."

"Decepticons, on me and catch that vessel. We will send it to the bottom of this pool and force those Autobots to walk to shore under our guns."


	22. Beach Head

Optimus Prime sat, in all the restored red and blue glory of his new alt mode, overlooking the now deserted shoreline landward from the San Ferdisco drilling platform, which was rapidly deconstructing under the efforts of Jazz and his small team as they attempted to force Megatron into abandoning his efforts at obtaining energon from this station.

To the left of the red Kenworth cab over truck was a Datsun 280ZX sports tourer painted up as a police cruiser. This was the still wounded Prowl, Optimus' major-domo and tactical planner who had thought out this operation. Beyond Prowl was another 280ZX, the grey liveried and jittery Bluestreak, a white Toyota Celica of Ironhide's offsider Downshift, the orange cab over truck of the cynical engineer Huffer and the red Pontiac Firebird of the speedster Windcharger.

To Prime's right, was his literal right hand man, the red Toyota Tarago of Prime's veteran bodyguard Ironhide. To his right was the Ferrari 512 of Prowl's planning assistant Overdrive, the gleaming yellow Lamborghini Countach of the ruthless warrior Sunstreaker, the blue Ford Pickup of the misfit soldier Gears and the green Land Rover of the indomitable Brawn.

And sitting incongruously behind the long row of ground vehicles, right by Optimus, was the starkly white Grumman F-14 Tomcat air superiority fighter of Jetfire.

Jazz' team out on the rig consisted of only those Autobots who had been seen active by either human or Decepticon eyes since the revival process had began. When Optimus Prime concluded the deal to get sufficient quantities of fossil fuel to revive the rest of the sleepers, Prowl's plan had hinged on being able to keep the Decepticons from realising the true extent of force arrayed against them. Ironhide would lead his team into battle to attempt to pin the Decepticon forces fleeing from Jazz' unexpected attack. Optimus Prime would travel with Ironhide's crew but his specific role was to contain and/or take down Megatron before the would-be dictator did too much damage to Jazz' crew. If necessary Jazz was to flee in apparent disarray and attempt to draw the Decepticons after him if his attack could not be pressed with sufficient force.

Jetfire would attempt to suppress any aerial attack the Seekers might make while Prowl and his team would be kept in reserve for a secondary Decepticon retreat to pin them further. While holding back from battle Prowl would then be able to direct Optimus Prime, Ironhide and their team from the advantage of distance.

The unknown elements in Prowl's plan were Thundercracker, and the human civilians. Thundercracker had not been seen since his escape from the Ark. Any unexpected return should be able to be contained. With a numerical superiority of three to one, Prowl was not anticipating committing his team.

Of the civilians, General Stewart had had two days to evacuate this stretch of Baja coastline. As it turned out SIU had evacuation plans for virtually every region of the United States, with a variety of cover stories to cover any eventuality.

The only potential problem was every Autobot was committed to the battle in one form or another. The Ark was completely exposed if Thundercracker, the humans, or even if any of the Decepticons present slipped the net. Prowl's problem had been that the three Autobots he would most likely have kept back in the Ark were Huffer, Ratchet and Wheeljack. The plan had committed the latter two to Jazz' team. Since that would have left just Huffer in the Ark, the Minibot engineer had been brought along and added to Prowl's team.

The absentees were the strange blue open wheel competition vehicle that was the aloof Mirage and the silver Mazda RX7 of the ever curious Camshaft. Prowl had tasked Mirage as a sniper rather than infantry and with the assistance of the inexperienced scout Camshaft to help find good firing position the pair were already gone, making their own plans.

"Prowl, you are recovering well?" Prowl turned mentally towards the speaker a few metres away on the other side of the bulk of his commander-in-chief.

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances Ironhide," replied the strategist, ensuring he was on a private frequency to veteran soldier. "Will your team be effective?" Prowl worried over the lack of telemetry from Jazz concerning the new Decepticons reported on the rig. Now there was no time to incorporate anything into the plan.

"They will be Autobots. That will be enough," interjected Optimus Prime.

"That they will Prime," responded Ironhide. "Prime we have a problem we have to talk about after the battle. We have some personnel missing."

"Personnel I did not know about being on the Ark?"

"Yes Prime."

"Anyone significant who might affect this battle if they suddenly arrived?" asked Prowl sharply.

"Grimlock has his own affect on any battle he sees." Both Optimus and Prowl were momentarily stunned by the revelation.

"Ironhide!" exclaimed Prowl.

"Yes, we do have to talk. You take your bodyguard duties too seriously."

"Prime, are you about to threaten the survival of the Matrix of Leadership by taking on one of the most deadly Decepticons ever templated one-on-one?"

"Jazz has reached the beach," said Prowl, sparing his Commander of having to answer. "Fire up your team, Ironhide." Prowl shifted frequencies. "Team Jazz, upon reaching defensive line 1, meet and disperse amongst Team Optimus to meet Decepticon beach head. Ratchet and Sideswipe to progress to Rally Point H. Ironhide will take command of Team Optimus once Optimus Prime is committed to his own objective. Once released by Ironhide, Team Jazz personnel will retire to Rally Point H for refuel and any attention required from the Hospital. Team Prowl will remain on high alert but will not commit unless ordered. Team Jetfire and Team Mirage will wait until firing commences before taking any action. Are we clear Autobots?" Prowl logged the chorus of acknowledgements.

"Team Optimus," began Ironhide, "form up!"

"Autobots we have brought the scourge of Megatron to this world," began Optimus Prime quietly. "Many humans are going to be killed by Megatron, victims to his sword and the swords of the criminals under his command. We have a responsibility towards these humans, whatever you may think of them, to protect them from a menace not of their making. Each one of these humans deserves to age into a life of their own choosing without the threat of domination from another world. The mistakes of our past will not be visited on these sentient beings. We will not allow the Decepticons to become Quintessons on the first inhabited world we discover." Now Optimus had reached a near shout as he continued to address his troops. He had one last line to give, and Ironhide and Prowl looked on proudly, ever impressed as their leader inspired his men to even greater efforts.

"Autobots, transform and roll out!" It mattered little that all were already in vehicle modes. To a ragged cheer Optimus and Ironhide led the way down towards the beach.

"Ever a joy to behold when his fire is lit in action," said Jetfire, now alone on Prowl's right. "And ever a sight to terrorise those who stand arrayed against him."

"Indeed." Then the moment passed and Prowl was all business. "Jazz is evacuating the human air cushion vehicle and is moving in this direction."

 

A bomb exploded to the right of the Marine Corps hovercraft as the engines spooled down, deflating the giant air cushion beneath the craft. Sideswipe was already leading the way up the beach track road with Ratchet, Wheeljack, Trailbreaker and Cliffjumper in pursuit. Jazz looked over the craft a final time before diving forward and folding into the bodyshape of a Porsche 934 and raced up the sandy track with the sure footed Hound providing a rear guard, firing his alt mode mounted gun, and tossing some hologramatic imagery to try and spoof attack runs from the pursuing Seekers and Avians.

One of Starscream's missiles finally slammed home into the hovercraft, igniting a partially empty fuel tank, sending an orange fireball skywards. Unexpended munitions added to the sound and light show and the vessel was quickly ablaze, a huge infra-red splotch on everyone’s vision. No lives were lost as the Marine Corps crew sat in the medical bay of Ratchet's alt mode at the front of the column. Rapid fire null rays and heavy calibre bullets impacted around the fleeing force along with occasional laser fire from Laserbeak and Buzzsaw. The rest of the Decepticons were lined up in single file behind the specialist aviators.

"Make a hole!" cried Ratchet and charged over a ridge, narrowly between the members of Team Optimus hidden behind it. The wounded and slowing Sidewsipe chased after the fleeing ambulance while Wheeljack transformed and dispersed the other members of Jazz team along the ridge. When Jazz and Hound arrived they too selected positions, transformed and turned to face their attackers, surrounded by the hidden members of Team Optimus.

The aviators had wheeled around and formed up with Megatron, Soundwave and the Constructicons, who stood on ground just firm enough forward of the beach and raced forward in an infantry charge. Starscream and Skywarp abandoned the air and unfolded into warriors while Soundwave ejected Frenzy, Rumble and Ravage into the mix, the trio flying outwards from the huge chest cavity.

"Decepticons, attack!" cried Megatron, his gun arm trained outwards at Jazz.

"Now!" Jazz responded, and the six hidden figures transformed and stood, each yelling their own war cries, sending missiles and laser fire down range towards the incoming targets. Optimus Prime immediately fired his cannon at the surprised Megatron. The Decepticons immediately sought cover, what cover they could find from the facing ridge only to be greeted by heavy calibre laser fire from one side as Jetfire raced along the Decepticon lines, spraying fire ahead and leaving bomblets trailing in his wake. A dazed Megatron sat upward, gun arm cradling his dazed head.

 

"No target, no target, no target, hold," Mirage slowly intoned as he squinted down the sights of his long barrelled rifle, looking through the cloud of dust Jetfire's attack had filled the air with. "Subject Megatron. Firing. Reload. Subject Soundwave. Firing. Reload."

While Camshaft looked on Mirage continued about his methodical work.

 

Megatron was slammed backwards into the finely granulated soil. He looked across at his ruined left shoulder, hit from a heavy calibre snipers rifle and raged against his own impetuousness. He had allowed himself to be deceived and Jazz had led him into a trap that the Autobots had layered well using forces that were supposed to be dead, wounded or in energon starvation on the Ark. The humans had betrayed him as well and had earned his considerable wrath.

"Starscream, get your forces airborne and find that sniper!"

With a crash Soundwave was slammed to the ground beside Megatron having taken a blow to his oversized torso. For the moment the communicator was stunned, or worse. Megatron cursed with every ounce of venom available to him. The dust cloud cleared momentarily and a figure in red and blue appeared through the dust and the growing clouds of smoke. The figure of his tormentor.

"YOU!" raged Megatron at the sight of Optimus Prime. Launching to his feet and ignoring the pain in his shoulder he leapt forward and ran straight at the hated matrix bearer. "DIE AUTOBOT!"

 

Prowl ran the telemetry he was receiving from Overdrive through his own analysis and come up with the same numbers. The additional Decepticons of the Constructicon team were having an effect on the battle, despite the layered trap the Autobots had fielded. The three to one advantage was now three to two. It was time to move up the schedule.

"Team Prowl, form up." The four vehicles formed a line alongside Prowl. "Team Prowl, we are going to relieve Team Jazz so they can re-arm." Prowl momentarily thought of using Optimus signature phrase, but dismissed it as poor imitation. The Datsun Police Car moved rapidly down the track, paced by Bluestreak and the others.

 

"Jetfire you will not elude me this time. Skywarp, you are on my wing." Starscream turned and leapt into the air after Jetfire's third bombing run over the Decepticon line, confident Skywarp would follow him into the air. Standing on his thrusters, the Decepticon aerial officer chased after Jetfire, dropping into his rear quarter. Jetfire had wheeled back in the other direction chasing Skywarp, who had not been quick enough to pick up Starscream's wing. But there were advantages, Jetfire could loose track of Starscream if he focussed too much on the pursuit of Skywarp.

"Skywarp wheel break down on my command." This time Starscream hoped Skywarp was sharp enough to realise his intent. "Now!"

Hoping for Skywarp to break left against his present right turn, he instead tightened his right and dropped, which fooled Jetfire not in the slightest and Starscream's stream of fire blazed in the opposite direction of the dogfight. Jetfire was now aware of the secondary threat and had broken left as Starscream overshot into a left. As Starscream straightened up Jetfire had gotten inside and at a slower speed now dropped into Starscreams stern. Starscream wrenched himself right as a missile blazed through the space he had just occupied and went wild, briefly locking into Skywarp who saw the danger early enough to teleport away from the missile.

 

"Subject Scavenger. Firing. Reload. No target, no target, no target. Subject Scrapper. Firing. Reload."

Camshaft looked over the battlefield as Mirage continued to work over the Decepticon positions. With Starscream and Skywarp dog fighting with Jetfire, the dust cloud had cleared, making Mirage's job easier, but now the two smaller Decepticon aerialists were free to roam the battlefield unmolested. Camshaft watched was Mirage lined up another shot at one of the Constructicons and fired. Laserbeak saw the muzzle flash and turned towards Mirage position.

"Mirage, we've got incoming." Mirage was lying prone in a covered position and continued to fire regardless while a short distance away, the hatch on a silver Mazda RX7 hinged open from the base, rather than the usual top hinge, rotating a missile launcher into position. As Laserbeak flew straight in at Mirage's concealed position, the missile fired off the back of the Mazda, at near point blank range, blowing Laserbeak out of the sky.

It was a desperation move though, as Buzzsaw now raced in having pin-pointed both targets.

 

"Krell. Mirage get out of there now," cried Camshaft, who immediately transformed to bring his gun to bear on the incoming Buzzsaw. Mirage rolled sideways from his hide, sending vegetation and debris in all directions just as Buzzsaw was approaching the hide, and Mirage swung his long barrelled rifle at Buzzsaw like a club. The avian veered suddenly away in avoidance and Camshaft was able to drive the Decepticon away with blaster fire.

"It would be well advised young Autobot to vacate this position immediately. If you would follow me?" Mirage, cradling his rifle before him, raced towards a group of Autobots moving in his direction away from the battle as Jazz moved towards the supply dump at Ratchet's field hospital which was set up beside Optimus Prime's battle station. With a groggy but functional Sideswipe manning the gunnery platform Buzzsaw was thoroughly discouraged from strafing either group of Autobots.

 

Steady fire from two of the three Autobot teams kept the Decepticons pinned to their beach head while their hope of breaking free, their aerialists were occupied themselves. While the sniping had stopped the damage had been done and most Decepticons were wounded in one form or another. With the Avians in trouble now, it was now, as Starscream saw it, up to the Seekers to put down Jetfire, then break Megatron and his team free. The third Autobot team was now re-enterring the battlezone, no dobut having refueled and re-armed.

A new radar contact grabbed Starscream's attention and he briefly rejoiced as he guessed its identity. As the plane crossed Decepticon lines the noise emanating from the dark blue shape changed, and climbed to a banshee shriek that even at this distance cut through armour. A sudden burst of acceleration and the jet sliced through the sound barrier directly above Autobot lines, the concussive effect greatly exaggerated by an sound manipulator within Thundercracker's fuselage. The Autobots fire grew erratic and slowed almost completely as Thundercracker's return gave his fellow Decepticons the chance to break cover and attack the Autobots directly. As Starscream watched the Decepticons lines broke from cover and dashed across no bots land engaging the Autobots at force-blade range.

Jetfire immediately banked in pursuit of Thundercracker, a missile exploded off the rails as he watched, with Skywarp following guns ablaze trying to put his sights on the Autobot flyer. The moments grace gave Starscream a short moment free from fighting the larger Autobot flyer. The pause was enough to remind Starscream that he had another option. Another direction. A plan that had been plotted years ago.

This was what he and Cyclonus had plotted and schemed for. All the idealism in discussion in Seeker Squadron Headquarters distilled down to a single idea, a concept, a revolution. This was the moment of existence, the reason for living to this point, for not becoming a battle statistic. The reason for suffering fools like Shockwave and Soundwave as equals. To risk life in the name of treason. But also a chance to seize the moment, to provide the Decepticons the destiny they truly yearned for and were capable of, and not continuing aeons of destructive brute-force battle with no end in sight. The opportunity to prove that he, Starscream, was the future of Cybertron and for Cybertron.

While studying the human language, Starscream had noticed their fondness for selecting a single line and remembering it for years, even centuries later. He had found one quote written by a popular but long dead writer of fiction which stated "Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war." This dog would have direction and its havoc focused entirely on one person.

The years peeled back to a moment, the moment of no return and Starscream paused mentally, remembering the moment it had almost come undone...


	23. Seeking Solutions

Four Million Years Ago...

The glow from the fading thrusters of Scourge and Sunstorm was no longer easily visible as the two Seekers raced back to the medical barracks. This left only Starscream and Cyclonus at work aboard the Nemesis, installing the last of the hibernation pods.

“Are you sure Megatron will select the Nemesis?” Cyclonus pushed the pod into place which clicked, hummed briefly as it went through its activation sequence, before processing its unconscious occupant into energon hibernation.

“He has a fondness for its name,” said Starscream slowly. “It reminds him of the divine retribution he believes he will visit upon the succession of Primes. Will Sunstorm and Scourge be able to get into position without anyone noticing they are not in squadron infirmary?”

“Scourge will be no problem. Sunstorm is capable enough as long as he does not speak to anyone.”

Starscream had first thought of the concept whilst in a RH Chamber weeks ago while having both of his legs restored after being shot down in action. It had been a bad day for the Seekers and many had been wounded, some killed and the squadron had been taken off the front line. During the administration phase Starscream, frustrated with his inability to affect the strategic direction of the Decepticon Army, had finally opened up some of his ambitions on his executive officer Cyclonus, whom he had decided was of like mind on certain issues of leadership. It was a moment of great bravery for Starscream, a Decepticon not noted for personal courage. But Starscream was not supposed to be a warrior. Created in the company of warriors, his education had been suited to that of a scientist. Starscream's frame however was that of a warrior and his speed was more than appreciated by the Decepticon army where he rose quickly and with scientific efficiency through the ranks.

When Cyclonus had produced a piece of vital intelligence about Megatrons imminent mission to pursue Optimus Prime's starship, it had all clicked together. A Constructicon team was hastily kidnapped from a medical facility which Starscream, Cyclonus, Sunstorm and Scourge had then blown up to cover their tracks. This was not a time for half measures.

The surgery performed on the Constructicons, while revolutionary, had not taken much time and they were placed directly into the hibernation pods and smuggled aboard the Nemesis. 

“I will need to take some of the Squadron with me to allay glorius Megatron's concerns about my ability to command. You will have to stay to get things in motion here once the Nemesis has departed. Megatron expects a full squadron, but I think I can get by with four. Skywarp would be the easiest to deceive and still retain loyalty towards me. Thrust will be handy, and probably Ramjet. We will have to isolate them from the others to ensure they do not know of the plan ahead of time.”

“I am not convinced Thundercracker will stick to the plan. He may go to Octane with this. Unlikely, but...”

“Yes, the doubt remains. Exchange Ramjet with Thundercracker. Seal the chamber and attach the vacuum maintenance warning.”

"Starscream, Thrust is approaching."

"What? That fool!" Starscream considered shifting frequencies but angrily stopped himself from broadcasting across monitored frequencies. The Seeker Commander raced to the airlock that had only just cycled through the departed Scourge and Sunstorm. Once in space Starscream flew straight to Thrust.

"What are you doing here? I left word for radio silence!"

"Exactly boss, so once Sunstorm told me where you were I had the fly here to pass the message to you. Megatron is demanding your attendance immeidiately." Starscream made an incoherent snarl of rage.

"Am I surrounded with incompetants and idiots?" I meant not to be contacted because I needed secrecy to perform my duties, may you rot in the stomach of Unicron!"

"Muh-muh-Megatron was very insistant I find you boss. To make sure you got the message because it was urgent."

"Of course he was. He is Megatron. Fetching him an energon cocktail when he is thirsty is urgent."

"Starscream, help needed." Cyclonus was broadcasting, actually broadcasting. Did nobody know anything about covert operations. Then Starscream saw a flash of light from within Nemesis. Then another.

"No! Not now!" Cyclonus had been discovered on board Nemesis, with Thrust falling rapidly behind Starscream raced back towards Nemesis. Three Cybertronians exitted the airlock as he approached. They jumped across the viod towards a small stealthy pod parked beside Nemesis that had not been there before. Starscream changed direction and raced for the pod. Three figures reached the threshhold of an open hatch and the pod was quickly moving. All thoughts of stealth forgotten Starscream lit off his engines to the full and rapidly raced after the escaping pod. Blowing a hole in the hatch Starscream caught and hauled himself aboard, null raying the first Cybertronian he saw. Rapidly he progressed to the pods flight deck and shot unconscious the two bots he found there. Bringing the pod to a halt he dragged the two into the rear of the pod, just as Cyclonus and Thrust arrived.

"It was a Reflector team," said Cyclonus, observing the purple Decepticon insignia. "I thought they were Autobots. They were recording me working in the Nemesis."

"It matters not, they know too much. Their lives are forfeit."

"Wait a cycle, we can not go around killing Decepticons." Confusion reigned on Thrust's facial expressions as he tried to decipher his officers discussion.

"That is your fault. Primus smiles on you that we do not have to kill you along with these three." Starscream stuck a null ray barrel directly into Thrusts face, pushing his conical shape head back against the cramped walls of the pod built for three much smaller Decepticons. "They no doubt followed you out here to find out what I was doing. It can be your responsibility to dispose of the evidence. Dismember the corpses, now."

"Wait, dismember, but they are alive..." Thrusts protests stopped when Starscream still staring directly down the barrell of one weapon into Thrusts face shifted the other and blew apart the head of the smaller Decepticon. Starscream shifted his aim, still staring directly at Thrust and blew a hole straight through the torso armour and ventilated the spark within.

"These corpses."

Almost casually by comparison, Cyclonus repeated the action on the other two.

"Incompetant, for that will be your new name, Cyclonus will show you where to put the pieces."

"The hibernation room?" asked Cyclonus.

"Unfortunately yes. I hope it does not spook the more delicate members of the team when they awake." Cyclonus snorted a half hearted laugh.

"And Thrust?"

"We will need him alive. Did you tell anyone else you were coming here?"

"Duh-duh-Dirge and Ramjet." Starscream just stared at Thrust until he grabbed two of the Reflectors and left for the Nemesis with one under each arm.

"Megatron will have to be happy with three Seekers." Starscream looked across at Cyclonus. "If we have to go to see Megatron now, he will want to know why you will not be fit in time to travel with the Nemesis."

"A virus would be easy to simulate..."

"No I do not think that will be sufficient. Cyclonus, give me your arm." A puzzled Cyclonus extended his left arm towards Starscream, who grabbed it viciously and jammed a gun barrell into the arm pit. Using the same level of force as killed the Reflectors, two shots severed the arm entirely as Cyclonus doubled over in pain, hydraulic fluid dribbling from the exposed wound.

"I had better hang on to this in case I have to ask why one of your arms were found amongst a group of Reflector corpses."

"You cold sparked Autobot!" grunted Cyclonus.

"It is all for the greater good so there is no need to get personal," said Starscream flippantly, his humour returned. "I should have waited on removing the arm now as I will have to help Thrust. Keep watch over us."

Starscream collected the third of the Decepticon spies and followed back into the Nemesis. By the time Starscream reacehd the sealed chamber Thrust was waiting with a group of scattered parts. Starscream unsealed the room and with Thrust kicked the parts inside then motioned for Thrust to enter. Once inside flashes emerged as Thrust used his weapons to shred the third corpse. With the door sealed Starscream shooed Thrust before him and out of the airlock, sealing that too.

"Thrust, Cyclonus and I have to see Megatron now so, take the spies vessel and tow it somewhere it will not be found. And tell Sunstorm I want a word with him about operational security. Now let us visit with our lord and master and see what edicts he has for us while we look meek."


	24. Devastation

"My thanks for the mines, but it appears Thundercracker has exacerbated my return to battle." Mirage now carried a satchell of magnetic mines, his intent to turn invisible an slap the mines onto Decepticon armour. Once upon a time Mirage had believed in concepts such as fair fights, and duelling pistols and the like. He had learned since then that warriors looked not for fairness and honour, true warriors looked for victory.

"Give me my gun," said Sideswipe, who had been hit again while manning the gun platform in Optimus Prime's trailer station. "Ratchet give me my my Krelling gun."

"Sideswipe you are not fit..." the sentence was left unfinished as Sideswipe grabbed his rifle, pushed Ratchet aside to grab his rocket launcher then transformed and race back towards battle. Ratchet shook his head in wonder.

"Mirage, show me that arm."

 

"At last a Decepticon doing his job," cried Megatron at his beleagered troops with the echo of Thundercracker's first pass still echoing off the nearby hills. "Now get out there and kill some Autobots." Megatron suited action to his words and screamed out his frustration as he ran across the short stretch of hillocky sand to grapple with Optimus Prime. Prime had somehow hung onto his rifle despite the fury of Thundercracker’s aural assault. This portion of the Autobot lines in particular had been disoriented when Frenzy had captured the sound effect from Thundecracker and fed it back through his own audio devices and fired it back into the battle field. The resulting sound, while brief had actually felled some Autobots near Optimus Prime. The already wounded Prowl still had not found his feet.

Prime was still going, he now had the rifle raised and was firing in all directions but they were not aimed shots and Megatron got a shot in, striking Prime in the upper left torso, spinning him slightly. Suddenly Autobot lines had been broached and the Decepticons mixxed it directly with their adveraries. Megatron was looking straight into Optimus optics when his right gauntlett crashed across the faceplate and was immediately followed with jarring contact to the reinforced end of the fusion canon. Megatron continued his rotational momentum and spun into a high kick from his left foot which reached maximum extension in time to clock Optimus right on the chin. The big Autobot collapsed to his knees. Megatron straightened to observe has foe, fallen. This was almost too easy. The Decepticon leader brought the Fusion Cannon to bear on Optimus head at point black range, when an explosion in the already damaged right shoulder staggered the chrome plated warrior backwards.

Now dazed himself Megatron had time to notice a prone and dazed Prowl beyond Optimus with a smoking missile launcher to the left side of his horned helmet. There was also another missile loaded in another launcher on the other side. Megatron was raising his gun arm, intending to hit the missile and hopefully decapitate Prowl when a mass of red stepped into position. The hated Prime was in position and Megatron collapsed, taking a broadside from Optimus cannon to the lower torso. Megatron shook his head as he sat, but rapidly rolled to one side as Optimus attempted to take advantage. Megatron forced himself to laugh at Prime and uttered;

"You will have to be a lot faster than that Prime."

 

A final punch, kick, and belly shot from the sonic blaster and Downshift was appropriately down. Collecting his rifle from where it had fallen, Soundwave turned to deliver the coup de grace, when a shout errupted from his left. Soundwave turned and took in Bonecrusher staggering backward from the fury of an assault, his assailant not immediately clear until turning further a vision of gleaming yellow screaming a battle cry, a large square arm with missile fitted, but not launched, swinging roundhouse in at Soundwave's exaggerated torso. The far arm sweeping a rotary blaster worth of fire, not aimed at all but marching up Bonecrushers frame and striking his head, knocking him off his feet while Sunstreaker continued to scream as the missile punctured Soundwave's chest launch bay and detonated.

 

Starscream turned towards the infantry battle and saw Sunstreaker blow his own arm off to take down Soundwave, all the while continuing to rake unaimed blasterfire at the Constructicons. Bonecrusher, Sunstreaker's second victim was returning dazedly to his feet. Hook was raking nearby Autobots with covering fire. Scrapper fought directly hand to hand with Ironhide, Scavenger with Trailbreaker, Long Haul with Overdrive, Mixmaster with Brawn. It was time, before one of them got put down. Starscream fired a radio pulse in their direction and sent the command he had itched to send for years,

"Constructicons, merge and form Devastator!"

 

Scrapper suddenly disengaged from his fight with Ironhide and yelled;

"Constructicons, merge and form Devastator!" Scrapper and Mixmaster transformed into their vehicle modes, and then changed again, with the rear end of the vehicles tilting forwards and upwards. Long Haul bent in two, 'U' shape style and linked the two together into what looked like legs. Hook's vehicle mode likewise bent into a 'U' and landed a top Long Haul. A pair of enormous fists emerged from the bodies of Bonecrusher and Scavenger as they formed arms and colossal silver faced, black head tilted forwards from what used to be Hook. A giant green and purple Decepticon stared down at the battle field.

"Very impressive Scrapper," said Megatron, the first to recover from the astonishing sight of six Decepticons disappearing into a single terrifying war machine. "This is a promising new aspect to your personality. I will punish you for not informing me of this ability later, but for now, destroy Optimus Prime." Prime, the second to recover, was firing his cannon at the emerald colussus.

 

High above the suddenly halted battle, Starscream sent another pulse;

"I must destroy the traitor Megatron!"

 

"I must destroy the traitor Megatron!" A deep booming voice echoed across the battlefield. An enormous blaster swung around and quickly blasted Megatron clear of the battlefield. The world shook with the green leviathan's steps as he pursued the chrome figure, half his size and immediately started pounding into the Decepticon Commander as he was starting to regain his feet. Megatron never got a shot away before the fusion cannon was smashed from his arm.

None of the other Decepticons witnessed this as Soundwave, now groggily on his feet with Frenzy's assistance, suddenly found himself directing a rearguard action as the Autobots pushed forward. Skywarp and Thundercracker dropped from attacking Jetfire to assist Soundwave. All the while two great purple fists smashed down and down and down.

Starscream realised he would have to take command of this rabble soon if he was to maintain any authority at all, but for a moment Starscream wanted to enjoy this. The grey and red Seeker transformed and landed on a high escarpment and looked down as the massive green and purple figure rhythmically pounded an unseen object into the ground in a unconscious yet brutal act of assassination it would never remember. For just a moment Starscream felt giddy.

 

And he howled with laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: The following is a re-interpretation of the earliest recorded interactions between the worlds of Earth and Cybertron. It incorporates elements of the animated Generation One and comic book versions, but retold as the author has thought it might have happened. For the sake of clarity the crossover elements with 'Beast Wars' will be largely ignored as will similar potentially concurrent events portrayed in 'Robots in Disguise', 'Unicron Trilogy' and other continuities.
> 
> All characters portrayed that have had multiple incarnations in Transformer lore are portrayed as their Generation One versions, with perhaps a stronger adherence to the original Hasbro/Marvel character definitions than those of the original Sunbow animated series.
> 
> The Dramatis Personae is mostly 1984 models only with some exceptions, the cast concessions from the original animated series are that Shockwave and Jetfire (Skyfire) are included from the first instance. Jetfire will appear in its Macross/Robotech clone - Grumman F-14A Tomcat form rather than the strange squared off 'flying crate' of the animated series. Jetfire is included earlier as I hate the whole buried in ice thing. It's far too 'Captain America' for my liking. Also he gets to keep his original name. Unlike Bumblebee who looses his for the simple reason that how would anyone on Cybertron know what a Bumblebee is? Fortunately continuity has already provided me with a substitute and it is Goldbug who joins the Ark crew in what becomes the lost patrol, Optimus Prime's ship of fools, lost for the ages.
> 
> Shockwave was included as, well, Megatron just needs the troops, much in the same way as Reflector appeared in early episodes of 'More Than Meets The Eye', plus it gave me a plot option to include the Dinobots. Actually each time I review it I'm adding more '85 models. The Constructicons and Reflector will appear prior to contact with Cybertron being restored but to say more than that would be telling as that is dealt with late in the first 'season'.
> 
> The Ominbots are included as I used to own them as a kid and it gives me three blank sheet Autobots to create personalities for. I'm not saying which of the three I'm basing on how I see myself but the first correct entry will receive a round of applause and the knowledge of knowing how easy it is to spot a developing despot.


End file.
